


"sorry if I'm not gentle," I can say that in my dreams

by unwindmyself



Series: one thing I still believe in, miracle romance [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon Fusion, Autistic Character, Complicated Interdimensional Relationship Nonsense, Developing Relationship, Exposition, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Femslash, Foster families, Gen, Human Characters as Cats, Implied/Referenced Racism, Jewish Character, Magical Girls, Male-Female Friendship, Oh No A Nazi, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyfidelity, Relationship Negotiation, Romani Character, Secret Identity, Teamwork, Time Shenanigans, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 52,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: In present day New York City, a group of young women (and Steve) are tasked with protecting the world from the evil and demonic entities from outer space bent on its destruction.





	1. An Astonishing Surprise: The Awakening of Sailor Moonstone (part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here goes nothing.
> 
> [This](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F5882449%2Fchapters%2F13745172&t=YWE2ODljN2M5MThiYWNiMzg4YWY5M2I4NjU4YzUxYjVkZmJkMjY0OCxhZmdsQzM4Vg%3D%3D&b=t%3Ac66oKJiHHef97LS17U5iKQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Funwind-myself.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F139156570178%2Fi-have-wandered-far-and-wide-for-something-real&m=1) [alternate](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9546965%2Fchapters%2F21782795&t=YzkyMDQwYTA1NzVmZTAzZWNkMTkyM2YyNTBiNDcyY2I1NTY1OTAxZSxyb3cyelF5Zw%3D%3D&b=t%3Ac66oKJiHHef97LS17U5iKQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Funwind-myself.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157037231638%2Flike-diamonds-in-a-coal-mine-in-the-moonlight&m=1) [universe](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9546965%2Fchapters%2F21805187&t=NTI4Zjg0MWMxMTlmMGQ3ZmRiZThjYjkzOTM2YjcwOWMwZjk2MDlhNyw2cFdvVk9aYg%3D%3D&b=t%3Ac66oKJiHHef97LS17U5iKQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Funwind-myself.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157078998083%2Fburn-me-up-baby-burn-me-until-it-shows-take-me&m=1), though all of those scenes are from later "seasons."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers, two college students who just want to make the world a better place, learn that they're equipped to do that in a very unlikely way.

Steve is already in the apartment when Peggy gets back from class, sitting sideways on the sofa with a cup of tea before him, his sketchpad in hand, and the cats curled up at his feet. He looks so concentrated and peaceful that she doesn’t want to bother him, and she considers not doing for a moment, but their agreed-upon rules of ethical consensual polyamory rather require it, don’t they?

So she clears her throat and says, “Hello, love.”

He glances up - he has dark circles under his eyes, and she feels bad for not noticing earlier, but they didn’t see much of each other this morning as he was practically out the door for an early lecture by the time she was fully up and moving - and his expression goes from solemn to warm in a second. “Hey,” he says. “Come and sit?”

Peggy nods, but instead of doing straightaway she asks, “Is there any more tea?”

“In the pot on the stove,” he agrees.

She fixes herself a cup - the sugar is already out, a thoughtful simplification on Steve’s part, though she takes less of it than he does - and by the time she’s made her way over to join him he’s moved over to give her room. This has disturbed the cats, a bit, enough that Edwin has jumped off of the sofa and gone to sniff around Peggy’s bag and shoes like he’s never done that before (he has) and Ana has stretched out to take advantage of the newly open space.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Peggy says, trying for all the world to sound like it’s not serious in any bad way because it’s _not_ , it’s just important to say.

“I do too, actually,” Steve replies, frowning because his _is_ serious in what might be a bad way.

And she can sense that, she knows very well how to read his expressions, and furthermore she knows that more serious things usually need to be shared promptly, so she puts her confession on hold and says, “You first, then.”

He tries to give her a brave smile in thanks (which only somewhat works) and declares, “I had another one of _those_ dreams last night.”

That explains why he looks as if he hasn’t slept, then, and Peggy reaches for his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “What happened?” she asks softly.

“I was in the palace again,” Steve murmurs, his gaze distant. What palace? He hasn’t figured out yet, but he’s seen it in dreams more times than he can count. “It was night, like it always is, and I was running through empty hallway after empty hallway. Finally I made it into the courtyard, and I saw that woman who looks like you, I thought I was running toward her. Her gown was black this time, billowing in the wind even though I couldn’t feel any wind myself. But before I reached her, the silver-armed man stopped me.”

“Did you see his face this time?” Peggy asks.

He shakes his head, sighing. “I didn’t,” he says. “I woke up before I had a chance to look.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No,” Steve frowns. “He never does. I wish he _would_ , though! Maybe then I would have some clue about why I keep dreaming these same dreams over and over again, why they’re so vivid they feel like a past life.” He trails off, clearly exasperated. These dreams have been plaguing him what seems like an eternity (in reality it’s just since the past spring, but that’s still long enough to be deemed troublesome). “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Peggy exclaims, not quite laughing.

“For bothering you with this,” Steve sighs.

“You’re fine,” Peggy promises. “More than. Things you don’t understand can be frustrating, but if you can’t bother me about them, then who can you bother?” She leans against his shoulder, smiling. “Aren’t I your family now?”

He nods, finally returning the smile in what seems like a sincere way. “You are,” he agrees. “You’re the best girlfriend anyone could ask for. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Peggy swallows, awash with guilt even though that goes against the whole reason she’s bringing this up in the first place, she’s doing that because if she’s honest she shouldn’t _have_ to feel guilty. “Well,” she says, drawing the word out, “you remember the conversation we had? About my also being attracted to women, and you…”

Steve nods, though it’s clear he wasn’t expecting this to come up, at least yet. “I remember,” he says. “We can still be boyfriend and girlfriend even if we’re interested in other people. We can still, we can still…”

“We can still pursue other people and be faithful to each other as long as we’re entirely open about what our intentions are,” Peggy finishes. “We could all three or more of us be involved in something, or it could be my person and your person and we’re also each other’s people, the two of us.”

“Right,” he nods. “And it’s not because we’re greedy or we’re not happy together.”

“It’s just because sometimes hearts can be interested in more than one person at once, and that could mean I’m interested in another man or you in another woman, too,” she agrees. “I’ll always love you.”

“I know that,” he says. “And I’ll always love you. But I’m guessing there’s a ‘but’ here.”

“Not a ‘but’ so much as an ‘and,’” Peggy says. “I think I met someone.”

“Really!” Steve exclaims, and he actually seems delighted by this, not upset as Peggy had feared. “Who are they? Are they a woman?” Since that’s how she re-introduced the subject, he has a hunch.

The question surprises Peggy, for some reason, even though it’s the right one to ask. “Yes,” she says, letting herself smile almost wistfully now. “Her name is Angela. Angie, more familiarly. She works at that new coffee shop arcade a few blocks over.”

“I can’t see you going to an arcade,” he teases, thoroughly fond. “Not when you could be punching something real instead.”

“I met her in the main office at school,” she corrects, rolling her eyes equally fondly. “She’s registering for spring semester.”

“Ah,” Steve says. “She must be special, if you like her.”

“Yes,” Peggy agrees, blushing. “She’s sweet, I offered to show her around a bit after she got her paperwork submitted and we got to talking. She’s an actress, or she wants to be, and she grew up in Brooklyn, just like you.”

“What’s her last name?” he asks, tilting her head. “I don’t remember any Angies, but maybe…”

“Martinelli,” she replies. “But you probably wouldn’t know her from anywhere, she apparently grew up quite Catholic, in her words ‘confined to the bubble.’” Steve tilts his head - he grew up Catholic as well - and Peggy amends, “Italian Catholic specifically.”

Steve nods (this is one city where Italian Catholics and Irish Catholics still mostly have their own niches), frowns, and when he speaks next his tone is wary. “If she’s Catholic, is she going to be… well…”

“Her jacket had, among other decorations, patches reading ‘femme for femme’ and ‘lesbian on the loose,’” Peggy says, smirking. “I went in knowing what to expect.”

“Did you ask her out or kiss her or anything?” he asks.

“Not yet,” she says. “I wanted to talk to you first, so I wasn’t going behind your back about it.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs. This time he’s the one to squeeze _her_ hand, and he does as affectionately as possible. “It’s alright with me if you want to ask her out, I promise. She sounds like fun.”

“She is.” Peggy pauses, smiling at the thought of the other girl, and then shakes it off. “Can I see what you were working on, or are you not ready for that yet?”

Steve shrugs and passes the sketchbook over. So far it’s just a pencil rendering of a palace, a night sky, a shadowed figure in the distance.

“Is this the place from your dreams?” she asks in a whisper.

“A version of it, anyway,” he replies.

“It looks so familiar,” she breathes, surprised by this.

“You recognize it?” he asks, even more surprised.

“Not as such,” Peggy says. “I think I’m just getting déjà vu. Maybe it reminds me of someplace I saw in a textbook, or something.” She’s almost certain it’s not just someplace she saw in a textbook, but she can’t remember what else it might be and she doesn’t want to give over to speculation.

“Maybe,” Steve echoes. “I think about it so much, Peggy. I can’t _not_ think about it sometimes. I want to know where it is, why I’m there. Who the woman and the silver-armed man are.”

“I know,” she murmurs, laying her head on his shoulder. He’s becoming increasingly troubled by these nighttime fantasies, and she has less and less of an idea of how to help, but she wants nothing in the world more than to do. It’s just the two of them here: his father so long out of the picture and his mother dead, her dearest brother dead and her parents back in England. They’re all the other has, really, and there are times when both of them wonder (not in a romantic sense, as earlier they talked through) if that’s enough for the other of them.

They’re quiet awhile, listening to each other breathe (and the faint unconscious purr that Ana is like to give when she’s asleep in the sun like she is now), until, much to their surprise, they hear a woman shriek in the communal hallway. Immediately, as if it didn’t even require thinking about, they’re on their feet, staring at each other as if silently conferencing about what to do (both of them have been known to break up fights and the like, rescue damsels and gentlemen alike in distress).

And more puzzlingly, their cats are immediately standing to attention as well, staring at each other with quite honestly humanoid intensity. Steve and Peggy don’t notice this, though -

\- until Edwin leaps three feet in the air and backflips, magically producing a bejeweled brooch from nowhere.

“What the _fuck_?” Steve exclaims, and if the situation wasn’t already clearly messed up, that’s proof. Peggy has teased him more than once about his swearing habits, which are surprisingly restrained for a kid who grew up getting into trouble in Brooklyn - earning an exasperated, “I swear when it’s appropriate.” Right now, it’s appropriate.

“There’s no time to explain,” says - astoundingly - Edwin, in what seems to be an accent that’s as British as Peggy’s. “Peggy, take the brooch and shout ‘Blue Moonstone Power!’”

Blinking in complete confusion, Peggy does, and her body begins to glow a shimmery white-blue. This keeps up for a good thirty seconds, Steve gaping and both of the cats just nodding along like everything is going according to plan, and when Peggy snaps out of it and returns to a normal color, she’s clad in not only a sailor suit with black bodice, blue collar and (short) skirt, and red bows, but matching black gloves and blue high-heeled shoes and choker necklace.

“Bloody hell,” she exclaims.

“What the _fuck_?” Steve repeats.

“You’re Sailor Moonstone,” Ana says, and her accent sounds something closer to Hungarian. “It’s your duty to fight the monsters that plague this world. And you, Steve, will help her. You’re Captain Tuxedo.”

Steve startles. “Do I get a brooch and a new outfit, too?”

Edwin tilts his head in what is probably a cat’s version of shrugging. “Just think it and you’ll be dressed.”

Steve shuts his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them he’s in a navy blue tuxedo and cape, the latter of which is lined with red.

“Why do I have an out-of-body dance number and he just gets to think it?” Peggy nearly shouts.

Edwin and Ana glance at each other ambivalently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sailor Guardians are named after rocks and gemstones. Of course they are! There are going to be more of them than there are planets, so a geological source was the next most likely homage to Naoko Takeuchi's etymology.
> 
> I know, I know, Sailor Moonstone is a little on the nose. But trust me.


	2. An Astonishing Surprise: The Awakening of Sailor Moonstone (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly summoned Sailor Moonstone and Captain Tuxedo do their first battle with a demon and learn something of their cosmic history.

The person in the hall screams again and Peggy asks, trying not to snap, “How is this supposed to help us help them? We’re not exactly incapable, which you know if you’ve been fully capable of rational thought this whole time.”

Edwin makes a face, as best as cats can make faces. “They’re not in danger from a human,” he says.

“Are they in danger from sentient cats?” Peggy mutters, folding her arms.

“They’re being attacked by demons from the Winter Kingdom,” Ana chimes in, because she seems less flustered by Peggy’s attitude.

“The Winter Kingdom?” Steve asks, his eyes widening.

Both cats nod. “We’ll explain everything later,” Ana says. “Right now, you’re _needed_.”

Peggy and Steve, despite their confusion, nod at each other and run into the hallway. There stands a woman, probably their same age, being menaced by a creature that’s honestly best described as an anthropomorphic gray hare (anthropomorphic meaning it has a hare’s head and an allegedly-sexy female humanoid body) wearing a leotard that seems to be comprised of overlapping red hearts.

“It’s like the universe was purposely trying to think of something even stranger than what we’ve already seen today,” Peggy murmurs.

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “Geez.”

“ _Sailor Moonstone_ ,” Edwin hisses from the apartment doorway, nodding them forward.

Peggy flinches, but then her body and mouth start to work before her brain can catch up (again). It’s like she somehow has this all inherent inside her. “Hey!” she shouts, striking a pose and pointing at the creature until they turn to look. The prospective victim stares too, wide-eyed. “How dare you disturb an innocent woman when she’s just trying to be comfortable in her own home? Women have enough to worry about without meanies like you bothering them when they’re just trying to relax!”

 _Meanies?_ Steve mouths, clearly amused, and Peggy shrugs.

“You humans are useless!” the rabbit lady laughs, throwing her head back. “All you can provide is energy for our great leader!” And with that she reaches her arm-hand-paw out and begins draining energy, which is apparently manifested as bolts of black edged by purple glitter, from the random woman.

Peggy and Steve glance at each other, baffled, and Edwin exclaims, “Captain! You can stop the demon with your blaster!”

“You want me to shoot it?” Steve asks.

“Just try it out,” Edwin presses, and Steve fumbles on his belt for what looks like the kind of sleek pistol you’d find in a 1950s alien film. When he shoots it, what comes out is not a gun but a stream of blue and white light that seems to shock the rabbit lady thing enough to get it away from the victim. It shrieks and recoils, leaving the woman panting against the wall.

“What was _that_?” Steve and Peggy ask in unison.

“Stun ray,” chirps Ana. “Technology of the Iridescent Sovereignty.”

“The what?” Steve and Peggy exclaim, also in unison.

Edwin and Ana cringe slightly. “We’ll explain afterward,” Edwin says. “For now, there are more important things to worry about. You still have to defeat the demon.”

“And how do we do that?” Peggy asks archly, backing away toward the door as said creature regains its footing and begins to advance. “Does he just stun it until it lies down?”

“Actually, you yourself can permanently incapacitate it,” Edwin says. “With your Aspiration Dream Wand.”

Peggy blinks. “You’re making this up,” she says. “I don’t _have_ an Aspiration Dream Wand.” The demon gets close enough to reach for her, and she swats it away. “Also, I didn’t need any such thing to do that.”

“No,” Edwin concedes, “but it’s still here. You just made it a bit angrier.”

Indeed, the rabbit lady thing is starting to growl as it catches itself and begins once more to approach. Steve points his apparent stun ray, circling around the monster’s other side to be able to better defend the poor woman dragged into the middle of all this.

“Do you need to backflip again to produce this magical toy for me, then?” Peggy asks, unable to contain her attitude fully.

“Don’t be cute,” Edwin snaps. “It’s there for you if you summon it.”

“And just how do I do that?” Peggy hisses.

“You just do,” Edwin says, oddly serene.

So Peggy pauses. She shuts her eyes. And she wills it into existence, this Aspiration Dream Wand. What does that even mean? It sounds like nonsense.

It’s nonsense.

It’s a blue wand, the same blue as her skirt, trimmed with red filigree, the same red as the bows adorning her tits and ass, topped with a giant shimmering stone, the same stone as comprises the brooch she triggered her hallucinatory costume change with. And it quite literally appears from thin air in her hand.

“Now,” Edwin instructs, “hold out the wand and shout ‘Translucent Meditation.’ Your body will know what to do.” This doesn’t seem as strange to him as it sounds.

Peggy bites back a sigh and, as she’s told, shouts, “Translucent Meditation!” This sets off another strange sequence of movements, sparkling and flashing and acrobatics that she didn’t know herself capable of and honestly doesn’t know if anyone else can see what’s happening as she does it, but that releases another ray of white light that, this time, not only freezes the demon but turns it to shimmering static noise that then evaporates like steam.

“What the _fuck_?” Steve exclaims yet again.

 

* * *

 

They see to it that the woman is all right - her groceries are gathered from where they spilled on the landing, her pulse is checked, she’s looked over for any injuries she might have sustained (thankfully, none visible) - before waving her off to her apartment and retreating back into theirs, at which time their fancy dress dematerializes and they’re left standing in the clothes they were wearing before everything took this extremely odd turn.

“Would you mind explaining, in as much detail as necessary, what exactly is going on here?” Peggy asks as soon as the door is shut. “What’s the Iridescent Sovereignty? Who are we, and more importantly who, or what, are you?”

“Sit down,” Ana says patiently, waving a paw toward the sofa where before they were snuggled. It seems strange that the apartment should be so unchanged, so normal, when nothing else is.

Steve sits, taking up his earlier position, and he holds an arm out to invite Peggy to join him, which she does, pressing up against his side with a slightly petulant expression. She’s never liked not knowing or understanding things, feeling in the dark, and right now that most certainly applies.

“What we are,” Edwin says, settling on the coffee table with an unnervingly professorial air, “is cats. We’ve always been cats, and something untold notwithstanding, we’ll always be cats. But we’re also advisors and protectors, who originally served the Iridescent Sovereignty’s most honorable Queen Margaret.”

Peggy blinks. “Margaret as in…”

“Queen Margaret was your mother,” Edwin declares.

“That doesn’t make sense, though,” Peggy says. “I have a mother. She lives in England and she’s never once known a talking cat. And besides, I’m not named for her.”

“Amanda Carter is your mother in this reality,” Ana says. “Just as Sarah Rogers is yours, Steve. But reality is ephemeral. You are both incarnations of royalty from the Iridescent Sovereignty of decades past.”

“And what _is_ that?” Peggy asks. “Is it a kingdom? Where is it?”

“The Iridescent Sovereignty is more than just a kingdom, it was a way of life,” Edwin says. “In that time, people lived peacefully and harmoniously under Queen Margaret’s rule. There were centuries without war and evil because the Queen made it so, although she prepared her daughter - that’s you, Peggy - and her daughter’s beau - that’s you, Steve - and also her ladies-in-waiting to defend the realm if necessary.”

“There are more of us involved in this?” Peggy exclaims. “Who?”

Ana shakes her head. “They will be revealed when the time is right. Not even we know yet where they’ve been reborn, or as whom.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Peggy mutters.

“Why were we reborn?” Steve asks. “If the Iridescent Sovereignty was such a shining example of goodness.” He sounds less sarcastic about it, but just as confused.

“The evil that Queen Margaret had done her best to shut away resurfaced,” Edwin says solemnly. “The Hydra was an otherworldly force of maliciousness and wrongdoing, and though she had been careful to seal it away, traces were able to break from its prison. One such trace worked its way into the heart of a rival monarch, Queen Avdotya of the Winter Kingdom, and convinced her that the only path to happiness would be to overthrow the Iridescent Sovereignty, steal the energy of its people, and impose a new world order of regulations, terror, bigotry, and putting the good of the state before the good of the individual.”

When he says that name, Avdotya, a shiver goes through Peggy for reasons she can’t at all fathom. She’s never heard it before, even in a book - perhaps it’s Russian? She isn’t sure.

“Queen Avdotya and her demons, like the one you fought today, waged war on the Iridescent Sovereignty, stealing energy from its people and sacrificing them to the Hydra,” Edwin continues. “Queen Margaret did her best to fight them off, and you, Peggy, Princess Margaret at the time, you and yours helped most valiantly. You as well, Steve - known then as Prince Coronet.”

It’s not the strangest thing they’ve heard all day, but Steve can sense a _but_ coming. “Then what?”

“You were killed in the attack,” Ana says softly. “All of you, one after the next. And though Queen Margaret sacrificed herself in an effort to prevent the Winter Kingdom’s taking over, she first sealed your spirit in crystals and willed that all of you might be reborn on Earth when it was most needed.”

“Reborn without our memories, though,” Peggy frowns.

“They will return in time,” Edwin says. “We were sent after you to guide you and teach you what we could remember from our pasts.”

“So if the Winter Kingdom took control of the Iridescent Sovereignty in an alternate past dimension, why have they suddenly resurfaced here?” Steve asks, to his credit sounding like it’s a perfectly rational question.

“The Hydra is greedy,” Edwin says. “What remained of the Iridescent Sovereignty must have run out of the energy that it needed to survive, so it crossed over into this dimension and future to gain more than it had ever had, and impart its cruel rule on the humans that live here.”

“The humans and the talking cats,” Peggy says. “Are there many of you?”

“As far as we know, we are the only ones in this world,” Ana replies.

“And given that we’re reincarnated royalty from - what, outer space? - are we really humans?” Peggy continues, frowning.

“Not exactly,” Edwin admits. “You’re mostly human, but the people of the Iridescent Sovereignty - and the cats - lived for millennia, far longer than people on Earth live. Time will tell as to if that will still be true of you.”

Peggy and Steve glance at each other. “Well, at least we’ve got each other,” Steve says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, I'm getting some of the exposition out of the way right away. Because I'm sorry, it's ridiculous to spend almost a whole season not putting it together that the _Moon_ Princess is the same person as Sailor _Moon_.


	3. To Keep a Secret: The New Guardians Adjust To Their Roles (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Angie have a casual late-afternoon lunch date.

“So you just move the joystick _here_ , and then you point,” Angie instructs, leaning rather heavily over Peggy’s shoulders and working the controllers of the arcade game. Her tone is more smug than anything else, but it’s clear even to Peggy (who is by nature a competitive sort) that it’s meant with fondness.

“Seems intuitive enough,” Peggy hums.

The game they’re playing is _Sailor Sunlight Attack!_ and given recent events in Peggy’s life, it’s more than a little strange. Sailor Sunlight is, according to Angie, the latest _thing_ for kids and teenagers, and though she’s only rendered in squatty 8-bit form in this particular game (it’s meant to be vintage) there are enough posters and merchandise of her around for Peggy to have gotten the idea: she’s a young redheaded (a bold bright orange kind of redheaded, hair down to her waist and bangs heavy over her eyebrows) girl, teenaged, maybe fifteen or sixteen at the most, who fights crime with both an outfit and attacks oddly similar to that Peggy’s new alter ego Sailor Moonstone. Even their names echo each other. The only real differences are that Sailor Sunlight’s outfit is, appropriately, mostly yellow and orange, she wears a coy black half-mask that’s really more like oversized sunglasses with clear lenses, and the crime she fights doesn’t seem to be necessarily magical, though the video game pits her against vaguely anthropomorphic monsters.

She doesn’t seem to live here, in New York City, but nobody is quite sure where she _does_ live or if the bad guys she pursues are real or make-believe, not stunts per se but characters invented for her little media world, which apparently consists of both animated shorts and a live-action television series aimed mostly at young women. Peggy herself is aged a bit above the target demographic, probably, but now that she’s been introduced she can’t help but wonder if the girl, whoever and wherever she is, is another of the guardians that Edwin and Ana mentioned. She’s searched Sailor Sunlight’s smiling face for something that might trigger a past-life memory, but so far there’s nothing.

And anyway, she isn’t exactly able to explain all of that complicated nonsense to Angie, so here she sits, amusing her new girlfriend (who doesn’t know she’s an actual costumed crimefighter) by playing a game where she pretends, so far a bit clumsily, to be a made-up costumed crimefighter. At least it’s not the strangest thing that’s happened this week.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Angie promises, grinning. “It just takes practice.”

“I understand point and shoot,” Peggy remarks. “I grew up pointing and shooting. But the mechanics of video games are a little different than the mechanics of guns, unfortunately.”

“God, I’m so glad you’re the ‘perfectly cool military brat’ kind of lifelong gun user and not the scary, shitty kind,” Angie chuckles, coming around to perch on the edge of the game machine’s bench. “Not that the scary, shitty kind usually admits to being queer, but you know.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Peggy says with a laugh of her own. “Part of it may be a cultural thing, I’m not sure. Since the laws are so different in Britain and all, you don’t really have a chance to become a horrifying gun user, not commonly. But then, it might also be how I was raised.” She pauses, suddenly struck with the thought that her cosmic mother, her past-life mother, might have taught her a similar philosophy for using her strange magical abilities. “Know what you’re doing so you can do it safely, and take pride in a job well done, but don’t do things just to cause harm.” Yes, it seems like that would have been taught her back in the Iridescent Sovereignty. (She’s still not sure, exactly, whether the term “Iridescent Sovereignty” refers to a time or a place, or possibly both, but you’d be _in_ either of those, so at least it’s grammatically correct no matter.)

“Makes sense,” Angie says. “My family was never really into shoot-’em-up stuff, ‘less you count my brothers playing cops and robbers or cowboys when they were little. But all the games we had were racing or making or something, not destroying. Might’ve been a religion thing.” She shrugs. “I still don’t like the real serious ones, the war kinda stuff, but goofy cartoon monsters are no big. That’s kinda the point of goofy cartoon monsters, I guess, gettin’ fought.”

Peggy has to work to stop herself from laughing. It’s sort of funny, in a normal way, but with her new knowledge of the universe and its vastness, its bastions of mystical evil, it’s too hilarious to share with a civilian. “I guess,” she repeats instead.

(Does she love not getting to share this with Angie? No, not at all. Transparency is vital to trust and trust is vital to relationships, but Edwin and Ana have been pretty clear that sharing with civilians that she and Steve are who they now know they are and that they do what they now do would be too dangerous to even warrant thinking about.)

Angie cants her head, smiling a funny little half of a smile. “You’re doin’ it again, English,” she says.

“What?” Peggy asks, though she knows.

“Goin’ off somewhere else in your thoughts,” Angie clarifies. “I don’t think I oughta take it personal, but it does make me curious. Where’s that somewhere?”

Peggy blushes. Clearly, keeping this secret is going to take some doing. “Nowhere particular, right now,” she says, aiming for reassuring. “It’s funny, I wasn’t a daydreamy sort of child, but I clearly picked the habit up somewhere along the way.”

“You don’t need to worry about it or anything,” Angie says. “It’s sort of cute. You get this soft sorta hazy look in your eyes, sorta moony.”

“That doesn’t sound cute, that sounds daft,” Peggy laughs, trying not to twitch at the word ‘moony.’

“No!” Angie exclaims. “I promise, it’s cute.” She reaches to cover Peggy’s hand (the one not currently on the joystick) with her own. “You’re very charming.”

“I suppose I’ll take that,” Peggy teases. She finally reaches a GAME OVER point in the game and leans back in her seat. “We should let someone else play, probably, hm?”

“Probably,” Angie agrees, standing and offering Peggy her hand. “I still have half an hour left on my lunch, if you wanna go sit or something?”

Peggy nods. “Probably should actually eat on your lunch, even if it’s just cafe food,” she says wryly. “At least, as far as that goes, the menu here isn’t too bad.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Angie agrees, leading Peggy over to an empty table. “What do you want?”

“You’re on your break, sit down,” Peggy chides playfully. “Wait for one of the others to come over and take the order.” They sit, next to each other instead of across from each other since it’s a booth, and Peggy lifts their joined hands onto the tabletop.

“Fine,” Angie sighs, rolling her eyes with equal playfulness. It only takes a minute for another of the waitresses to take their orders, and then Angie rests her head on Peggy’s shoulder. “You’re really pretty sweet to me, y’know.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Peggy asks, laughing but not meanly. “You’re very deserving of sweetness.”

Angie wiggles, clearly getting shy all of a sudden. “I dunno, it’s just different,” she says. “Nice different. And hey, you’re cool with me getting all PDA but you’re also cool with my not… y’know. Callin’ the U-haul. It’s a delicate balance.”

Peggy laughs. “I’m still jumping for joy that you don’t mind my bisexual polyamory,” she counters. “Not every girl would be that understanding, which means that I’m lucky and I should have no qualms with whatever speed you want to take things. Even if I wouldn’t have them anyway.”

“Hey, I get it,” Angie says. “Y’know, hypothetically, at least. I’m sure if you’re into that sorta thing your boy’s top of the heap.”

“Don’t call him a boy, when you meet him,” Peggy smirks. “He’s not _overly_ sensitive about his masculinity, but still, best not. And even if you’re not attracted to him - which of course is fine! - you’ll see upon that introduction that he’s far from boyhood.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Angie laughs. “Kinda V-shaped, huh?”

“V-shaped?” Peggy asks.

“Yeah, like - big ol’ shoulders, built-up torso, nice trim waist,” Angie explains. “I know the type.”

“Actually, yes, that’s a fairly good description,” Peggy says. “He was rather weedy and sickly as a child, so building himself up has been a very conscious activity. Apparently.” She shrugs - although apparently she knew Steve, or Prince Coronet (which is a very silly name and makes her glad she wasn’t something just as silly, Princess Tiara or the like) rather, in a past life some indescribable amount of time ago, she’s only known him in this life since they began university together last year. Stories of his childhood are just that, stories, even though she knows them well.

“Aw,” Angie says, all sympathy. “I’m glad he’s better, then. That he figured out how to make it better for himself. That stuff can stick with you. I remember when I was a kid my ballet teacher told me I had the wrong kinda feet to be a serious ballerina, I was devastated.”

“Poor thing,” Peggy hums. “What did you do?”

“I got the hell outta there and learned how to tap dance instead,” Angie replies, grinning smugly. “And I got damn good at it. Jazz and modern too. They’re less stuffy.” She sighs, suddenly wistful. “I do still love watching ballet, though.”

“Well, it’s ballet’s loss, I’m sure,” Peggy declares, nodding as their food arrives and they both start to dig in. “Are you performing anywhere anytime soon? I’d love to see you.”

“Nothin’ on the horizon at the moment,” Angie says. “I’m hopin’ there’ll be more opportunities once I start up school. Classes, plays, that sorta thing. But,” she adds, looking up at Peggy mischievously, “if you’re really curious, I know a couple blues clubs we could hit up some night. Then we could both show off.”

“I’m not _so_ much a dancer,” Peggy demurs, but she’s smiling. “I can manage pretty well with partner things, though. And I’d love to step out with you on my arm. Or me on yours, depending how you want to look at it.” They haven’t really discussed that kind of sexual-romantic dynamic yet, which of them “wears the pants” or “is on top” or what have you, but Peggy figures it will come up naturally (and she’s open to flexibility, so).

Angie shuts her eyes for a moment, clearly picturing this. “I’d be the luckiest person in the place,” she says. “I bet you clean up real well, don’t you?”

“I’d like to think I’m not too bad at getting dressed up,” Peggy replies with pretend aloofness, fluffing her hair.

“Would you wanna bring the fella?” Angie asks after a moment of thought.

“Would _you_ want that?” Peggy counters, somehow surprised.

Angie shrugs. “I mean, we’re gonna have to meet someday,” she says. “And we’re already gettin’ used to sharing you. I’m not gonna get jealous and weird, I’m sure we could figure it out.”

“Maybe, then,” Peggy murmurs. “I would feel better about it if he had a second there, too, just so there wouldn’t be an odd one out…”

“It’s a blues club, strangers ask strangers to dance all the time,” Angie points out.

“Well, yes, but still,” Peggy says. “It’s a balance thing.” That, and ever since the revelation of their apparent true selves Steve has been brooding even more about the silver-armed man (having deduced that the woman who looks like her is probably, in fact, her, in the context of the Iridescent Sovereignty). It’s not a problem, but Peggy suspects that it comes from Steve wondering if the man was, in fact, someone as important to him, to Prince Coronet, as she, Princess Margaret, was. Is. He’s just as likely right now to spend a night out on the dance floor with whoever asks as he is to spend it at a table in the corner trying to match facial features up with the shadowed figure in his mind.

“Yeah, makes sense,” Angie says thoughtfully.

Just then, Peggy’s phone beeps - the special beep she set for Steve’s number, the one that means there’s probably guardian business to attend to. “Oh, hell,” she mutters. “Angie, I’m -”

“Hey, Angie!” her manager shouts from behind the counter. “Getting to be about time to get back to work, isn’t it?”

“Just a sec,” Angie calls back. “Perfect timing, looks like. You get to whatever you need to do, I’ll get back to work. Talk tonight?”

Peggy breathes a sigh of relief. “Tonight,” she agrees.


	4. To Keep a Secret: The New Guardians Adjust To Their Roles (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sailor Moonstone and Captain Tuxedo face a new level of enemy and are accordingly forced to rethink their new roles.

Their second battle is much the same as their first, although the demon takes the form of a humanoid vole instead of a rabbit and the prospective victim is a mailman instead of an upstairs neighbor. They stun things with their strange cosmic attacks and they say more than a couple of things that surprise them and the cats continue to be surprisingly adept with battle strategy. There’s already a routine, which is surprising until they consider that they’ve probably done this a thousand times before in their past life.

Then it becomes startling in a whole new way.

Then, just as the demon is defeated and fades into oblivion, a new figure appears, quite literally, in a swirl of smoke and pink rose petals. “So you’re the Sailor Guardian and _her_ guardian,” he barks, expression cynical.

“I’m only her guardian as much as she’s mine,” Steve retorts, flipping his cape. “We look out for each other.”

“Ha!” the newcomer exclaims. “Your naïveté is charming.”

“Your arrogance isn’t,” Steve replies in a tone best described as “saucy.”

“It’s not arrogance,” says the newcomer, who’s wearing a single-breasted olive green suit and hovering about three feet off the ground. “Confidence, perhaps. Because I know that we’re doing the work of our great leader and that we are in the right.”

Peggy puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, sorry,” she says, clearing her throat. “We haven’t been introduced, in this life anyhow. Are you from the Winter Kingdom?”

“Foolish child,” the newcomer remarks. “Of course I am. My chosen name is Stribog, for the god of the wind and sky and air, and I am one of the Winter Kingdom’s Four Auxiliary Monarchs. You’ve defeated two of my demons already, it seems, but that only means that they were not strong enough to serve our great leader. Anything that is not strong enough to serve our great leader must be excised. The whole is greater than its parts, no?”

“I get the feeling you’re not talking mathematics,” Peggy snarks.

“Mathematics?” echoes this Stribog, laughing behind his hand. “Foolish child.”

“You said that already,” Peggy mutters, summoning her Aspiration Dream Wand behind her back.

“It has not ceased to be true,” Stribog says casually.

Behind them, Ana and Edwin are making fretful noises. “Be careful, Sailor Moonstone,” Edwin murmurs.

But careful has never been one of Peggy’s strong suits. “Individuality is what makes us human,” she announces in a strong, clear voice. “If all we think about is the end result, without worrying about what happens along the way, we give up something precious.”

Stribog laughs again. “You’re defending the demons that you yourself killed?”

“I’m saying,” Peggy mutters impatiently, “that if you, their general, cares so little for them that their death is a nonevent, your entire cause is built on ideology that will fail.”

“How noble of you,” Stribog murmurs. “How _ignorant_.”

“Translucent _Meditation_!” Peggy shouts, wielding her Aspiration Dream Wand for the second time today.

While it made quick work of the humanoid vole demon, though, all it seems to do to Stribog is jar him a bit, make him dodge out of the way with an even wilder laugh. “Foolish _child_ ,” he croons, apparently magicking up a bit of evil energy and blasting it Peggy’s way. “You haven’t seen the last of me!”

While Stribog is disappearing in another smoke-and-rose-petals storm, then, Steve runs to Peggy, currently sprawled on the ground with several scrapes on her legs from sliding against concrete. She’s also trying to catch her breath, having had the wind knocked out of her, and Steve gently half-cradles her, supporting the weight of her torso so she doesn’t have to. “Peg - Sailor Moonstone,” he exclaims, frowning. “Are you okay? Did that do anything to you?” Anything serious, he means, although it could be argued that he’s also asking after her because they don’t know what their newly discovered cosmically enhanced physiologies can handle in terms of pain.

“I’m alright,” Peggy pants, sinking back in Steve’s arms. “Mostly just scraped and stunned.”

“I told you to be careful,” Edwin implores as he and Ana come up on Peggy’s other side.

“You didn’t tell me that meant that I couldn’t attack the fully humanoid villain!” Peggy shouts. “How was I to know that the _Aspiration Dream Wand_ only works on the monsters that vaguely resemble sexy versions of woodland critters?” The last phrase, an obvious Americanism, is said with especial sarcasm.

Edwin looks mollified. “I thought that was implied,” he says.

“We should get you inside,” Steve says, frowning. “I want to take a look at those cuts and make sure they get cleaned off. And besides,” he adds, glancing around, “I doubt the sidewalk is a good place to talk out any of the things we clearly need to talk out.”

“Good thinking,” Ana mews.

“I trust you can help Sailor Moonstone up to the apartment?” Edwin prompts.

Peggy rolls her eyes fiercely and rises to her feet. “I don’t need him to carry me, I just got a bit banged up,” she retorts, starting in the direction of their building.

Steve shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll take her word for it,” he says.

They cross the parking lot and go into their building, their costumes disappearing at some point as they walk through the foyer. “Convenient,” Peggy mutters, rolling her eyes, “that our magical outfits should know when to absent themselves, lest they spoil our identities to our neighbors.”

“Well, they are magical,” Ana replies, and nobody can tell if she’s being ironic.

They make their way up in the elevator (Steve insists, but silently, politely) and into the apartment without running into anyone, which is really just as well given that Peggy is limping in a way that strangers might misinterpret or fret over and given that their cats are following along in a manner that might seem too cognizant to strangers. Steve opens the door (luckily his keys didn’t get lost in the transformations) and lets them all in; he ushers Peggy to the sofa and bids her hike her skirt up so he can tend her wounds.

“Who _was_ that?” Peggy asks the cats, hissing through her teeth as Steve applies rubbing alcohol to one of her deeper cuts. “You didn’t mention any…”

“Auxiliary Monarchs,” Steve supplies.

Edwin and Ana exchange looks. “We didn’t know of them, strictly speaking,” Edwin says cautiously. “I assume they’re some of Avdotya’s henchpeople, servants of the Hydra, but theirs is not a name we’ve heard used before.”

“Who were her henchpeople before, then?” Peggy asks, sounding caustic.

“Oh, people,” Ana says lightly. “They vary. It’s just as possible that she picked these ones up in some time or dimension they’ve attempted to conquer as that they were found by the Hydra like she was and given as a gift to her for her conquest.”

“But you’ve seen demons before,” Peggy prompts. “You could tell us how to deal with those.”

“Whoever the henchpeople are, the demons are the same,” Edwin says. “Or not the same, as such - each demon is unique, but their function and power levels are the same. They can be disposed of in a similar fashion no matter who their master is.”

“Or mistress,” Ana chimes in, and Edwin blushes (cats aren’t supposed to be able to blush, but that must be a function of being a magical, fully sentient cat).

That earns him a strange look from Peggy, but she’s quickly back to the real issue at hand. “So her recruitment has been ongoing,” she says. “Avdotya’s.”

“Or the Hydra’s, we don’t know,” Edwin frowns. “It’s very possible that we don’t know the scope of the Hydra’s plan, or its soldiers. All we have is the information on it regarding the Iridescent Sovereignty, and its downfall.” He sighs. “I wish we were of more use to you in that regard.”

“Well, you can’t exactly help it,” Peggy says. “Being cats and all.”

Ana giggles, which is still a strange noise coming from a cat. “There might be a way, though,” she says, raising what passes for her eyebrows. “To find out more of what we need to know. More about these Auxiliary Monarchs and about the Winter Kingdom, its structure and hierarchy.”

“Ah, yes!” Edwin declares. “I forgot to mention. We _do_ have access to a sort of… interdimensional radio feed. I’ve yet to utilize it, since you’ve only just awakened, but…”

“What is it?” Steve and Peggy ask in unison.

“Well,” Edwin says, “in the basement of the arcade cafe -”

“ _Angie’s_ arcade cafe?” Peggy exclaims, startled. “You mean my girlfriend who you’ve specifically warned me _not_ to get involved with this.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Edwin sighs. “In the basement, there’s a sort of command center. We should be able to log in to the radio, as it were, and use it for research as well as present intelligence.”

Peggy frowns. “How do you get in?” she asks. “Being as, you know. Cats. And all.”

“You seem oddly fond of reminding us of our feline state,” Edwin says with a snarky little edge.

“Only because I know it may affect tactical procedures,” Peggy retorts.

“We have our ways,” says Ana.

“We should go and do that,” murmurs Edwin, eyeing Peggy and Steve. “Give these two a moment alone.”

“We wouldn’t argue that,” Steve admits.

 

* * *

 

Once the cats are gone and Peggy’s bandaged, Steve lifts her up and carries her into their bedroom. This is one context she won’t argue carrying in since he does that normally. He helps her undress, then does so himself and comes to join her under the covers.

“I’m not an invalid,” Peggy murmurs, but there’s no real snap to it.

“I know,” Steve says. “Can’t a guy just be sweet to his best girl?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re sentimental. What’s going on?”

“I’m just thinking,” he replies. “I know you’re okay, but I still don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“Well, I don’t like seeing you get hurt either,” she counters, almost brattily.

He nods. “Then that’s something we can agree on,” he says, almost smug.

“Tosser,” she mutters playfully.

“I’m thinking about the Iridescent Sovereignty, too,” Steve says. “That _must_ be the place I’ve been dreaming of. With all the… Peg, do you think the silver-armed man might be someone real?”

Peggy frowns, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Perhaps,” she says. “Someone we - someone _you_ knew back then, or…”

“An enemy,” he murmurs. “I think he’s important to me, whoever he is. What am I gonna do if he’s an enemy? Why have I been dreaming about him if all he wants is to sacrifice me and everything I love to his so-called great leader?” He sounds distraught, more even than he’s been in recent weeks.

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “We can hope that he’s not, and hope that… maybe you’ll figure it out.”

“Before I come face-to-face with him, you mean,” he says, resigned. “If I do.”

“If,” she repeats. “We’ll manage. We’ll get through.”

“This is all so new, though,” Steve says. “What if we don’t?”

“We will,” Peggy insists. “We didn’t get ourselves reincarnated across dimensions to fold that easily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those other Winter Soldiers that Zemo murdered? Yeah. Auxiliary Monarchs. I'm telling you because they weren't really actually characters with distinguishing features so there's no way you'd really know otherwise.


	5. Horrifying History: Collision Of Dimensions And Past Lives (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Steve discover a shocking truth about their nemeses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said on my other fic (connect the dots...) I do not truck with Nazis. This bullshit in the comics is just that, bullshit, and I will be actively writing and working against it in every way possible.
> 
> That said, the bullshit does have to get mentioned in order to actively write against it. Sorry. #villainizehydra2kforever

Peggy is sitting at the kitchen table, (sort of) doing her history reading and (mostly) drinking beer, when Steve gets home, and she’s trying to concentrate enough that she doesn’t look up when she asks, “Run into trouble on your way?”

“A little,” Steve replies, and the dazed sound of his voice is enough to make her look up, worried.

“Darling, you look like a wreck!” she exclaims. Indeed, he’s got a bloody lip and the beginnings of a black eye. “Was there a demon? You should have called me, I’d have come to help.”

“No demon,” he sighs, sitting down at the table beside her. “Some good for nothing _bullies_ were harassing a couple of kids outside the Jewish Community School.”

“I still would have come to help,” Peggy says softly.

Steve smiles ruefully. “I was hoping I could get away with just talking the guys down,” he says. “They hadn’t started getting violent with the kids yet, they were just yelling. The worst kind of yelling.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s clear sadness just underneath his anger.

“The location wasn’t a coincidence, I’m guessing,” she murmurs.

He shakes his head. “It’s the twenty-first century!” he exclaims, distraught. “Shouldn’t everyone have learned not to buy into all that?”

“Someone is always going to buy into it,” she says. Of the two of them, he’s always been the idealist. “Someone, somewhere, is always going to be sexist, or ableist, or racist, or whichever terrible -ist they are.”

“I hate that,” he says softly. “I hate that people think they can get away with that.”

“I know,” she sighs, laying her hand over top of his. “I hate it too. But sometimes, all we can do is try to help other people stop being those ways. Or,” she adds, looking him over, “Stop them more directly.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, glancing at their hands. “I tried talking to them, I really did. But they just wouldn’t listen. Called me a few really awful names, too.” He pauses. The names, the pause implies, are to do with things like masculinity and sexual preference. The usual insults that men like that throw at men who stand for decency and being nice. “And they hit first.”

She tries for a smile. “I’m not surprised,” she says. “But you gave them what for, I suppose?”

“I tried,” he replies. “Got in enough good hits to give the kids a chance to run off, anyway. The boy was _fast_.”

“That’s good, I think?” Peggy hums.

“I’m guessing,” Steve replies. “They were gone by the time I finished with the bullies. I don’t know how much good it’s going to do in the long run, but I hope...” He sighs. “I hope, at least, that I discouraged them from trying to pick fights with kids just because of their religion or culture or race.”

“Or at the least, taught them that if they do that, they’ll have to answer to a fearsome social justice warrior,” she says, smirking.

“Maybe more than one,” he adds, nudging her. Depends on who’s in the right place at the right time.

“Maybe,” she agrees. “Just a second, I’m going to get you some ice.” She hops up and goes to the kitchen, blowing a kiss.

“Where are the cats?” he asks, glancing around.

“Presumably out at research again,” she shrugs, popping ice cubes out of the tray from the freezer. “I don’t know how they manage to get in during the day, but I suppose they have their ways. Their cat… ways.”

That makes him laugh. “Or something like that,” he agrees.

“I mean,” she continues cheerfully, “I suppose suspending disbelief is sort of our bread and butter now.”

“That’s very true,” he agrees.

In a minute she returns to the table holding a little cloth ice-pack freshly refilled in one hand and a cool cloth in the other, and with that she cleans off his wounds before handing the ice over. “It’s a shame our cosmic superpowers don’t come with invulnerability,” she jokes, although it’s not really much of a joke.

“I think they help a little,” he counters, smirking. “I should have walked away from that way worse off.”

“Small mercy, then,” she says, settling back in front of her textbook.

“Doing homework?” he asks.

“Unfortunately our cosmic superpowers - and past-life royalty - don’t come with a generous retainer, so I still figure we’ll need a proper education,” Peggy says. “And that means homework.”

Steve nods. “I’ll get to mine in a bit, don’t worry,” he replies, but then he peers at the pages in front of her curiously. “Hey, what’s that? It looks familiar, and not in a good way.”

“Hm?”

“Right next to the third paragraph down,” he says, frowning. “Is that an… octopus?”

She matches his frown when she finds the offending picture. “It’s a drawing of one,” she agrees. “But it’s… god, that’s so strange…”

“What does it say, Peg?” he asks.

“It says it’s the iconography associated with a Nazi group called Hydra,” she murmurs.

“Hydra, as in…”

“I’m not sure,” she says. “It doesn’t say much more, and I can’t… I mean, Edwin and Ana basically said the Hydra hails from a different dimension of space-time.”

“But it came here now,” he insists. “It could have come before.”

“Wouldn’t we have been reborn before, then?” she asks, sounding vaguely stunned.

“Maybe not,” he says. “They said when it was most needed.”

“I’m looking this up,” Peggy declares, and she reaches for her laptop, frowning. She opens it and types and clicks around for a minute or two, intent and serious, before she exclaims, “I think I found something. Not about… not about _the_ Hydra, necessarily, but about the group?”

“Read it,” Steve insists.

So she clears her throat and begins to read. “ _World War II saw the rise of what has since been called the world’s premier partisan organization, Hydra. Though some say their origins date much farther back in history, perhaps even to the Greco-Roman cultures that first popularized the mythical beast for which they are named, there has never been conclusive evidence to prove this._ ”

He blinks, startled. “This is a hell of a coincidence, if it’s a coincidence,” he murmurs.

“And how,” she replies. “ _Hydra as we know it today emerged as a splinter group off of the Nazi party, advocating virtually all of the same ideals - racial purity being the most significant - but combining them with an even more radical scientific and military bent toward creating superior humans, the true Übermensch. They were responsible for the most extreme experiments done against people deemed by the Third Reich to be somehow lesser; they were also rumored to have performed experiments on some of their own people, in order to enhance them for combat and to start to work toward their goal._ ”

“How come we never learned about this when we were kids?” he asks, frowning. “If it’s such a part of… it sounds like something that someone should have told us a long time ago.”

“I think I recall something,” she muses. “Just a footnote, perhaps? It sounds like the kind of truly awful thing they don’t want to tell children in case it disturbs them.” She rolls her eyes, making clear her opinion of that.

“Or they don’t want to tell children because they want to pretend it didn’t happen,” he says, eyes dark. “Just… brushing it under the rug that the rest of the world allowed that to happen.”

She nods. “It says here that they were brought to heel with the rest of the Nazis,” she continues, clearly still skimming the article she’s found. “But… oh, hell.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reaching to place his hand over hers.

“ _But while they were punished and many of the senior members especially were jailed indefinitely for war crimes, rumors began to circulate in the last decade of Hydra’s reemergence_ ,” Peggy reads. “ _Now described as an underground movement or, more plainly put, a neo-Nazi gang, nobody really knows how much truth there is to the stories about Hydra. Are they recruiting everyone from high school students to elderly racists with more money than sense, or is the majority of the group still young and fit men who fit the ideal their forefathers preached? Are their members planted in major governments and corporations around the world, or are they just a bunch of angry bruisers with ‘white power’ tattoos? Have they resumed their experiments and torture, made even bolder by modern technology, or has that always been unsubstantiated?_ ”

“I think I might be sick,” Steve says, although he doesn’t look so much like he means it as like he’s saying it for emphasis and effect.

“ _Or_ \- and this is the scariest part - _did they ever really stop_?” She sighs and twines her fingers with his. “What you said about brushing it under the rug is beginning to feel more likely.”

“That’s sounding like the nicest option by now,” he says. “What website is this on?”

“It’s just someone’s blog,” she admits. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, in this situation.”

“I’m not sure either,” he says. “I can’t imagine that this Hydra doesn’t have something to do with _the_ Hydra. They both sound sinister enough. What was it Ana said about the people who work for the Hydra? Servants from multiple dimensions…”

Peggy bites her lip, nodding. “It’s very possible that - somehow or another - Hydra the organization is the work of servants of _the_ Hydra, from this dimension or others brought here,” she says. “That doesn’t change the fact that they’re Nazis and I could kill every last bloody one of them for what they’ve done to people and to the world, but…”

“But it’s possible,” Steve concludes. “I’m sure at least a part of their experiments were, are - trying to gather energy, for…”

“For their so-called great bloody leader,” she replies, voice dripping disdain. “I’m sure they believe that people less than them are only good for that purpose.”

“Our guy’s going after just anyone, though,” he points out, hesitant.

“So far,” she corrects. “It seems, anyway. But if what Edwin and Ana have said is right and this is all true, Stribog and his Auxiliary Monarchs are - god, they’re _space_ Nazis. They might well believe every human is worthless, to some degree.”

“Space Nazis,” he repeats. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It doesn’t sound entirely unreasonable, given everything,” she says archly.

“No,” he agrees, and he squeezes her hand. They sit in silence for a moment, letting all of this sink in, and then he says, with sudden horror, “Look up the two of us.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Bit of a strange time to play Google games,” she says.

“No, I mean - our names,” he replies, shaking his head. “Our names and World War II. Our full names.”

She’s mystified, but she obliges, entering _peggy carter + steve rogers + world war ii_ into the search bar. She’s suddenly afraid of what she’ll find.

The first few results are nothing much, but then she puts each item in quotation marks. Then she skims and it’s only a few seconds before she reaches a headline and her throat seems to close up.

“Peg?” he asks. “Something wrong?”

“Only what I’m guessing you suspected,” she says flatly, sliding the laptop over to him.

_War heroes Carter and Rogers shot down, presumed dead._


	6. Horrifying History: Collision Of Dimensions And Past Lives (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Steve go out looking for other Sailor Guardians, and they have an easy place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #NickSpencerIsHydra  
> #villainizeHydra2kforever  
> #surprisebitchIbetyouthoughtyoudseenthelastofmyintersectionalfeministagenda

“You mind telling us what the hell this is?” Steve asks.

It takes Edwin and Ana, who just came in through the window via the fire escape, a few seconds to figure out what “this” he’s referring to, and a few more to realize that Edwin’s assumption (whatever has Peggy so upset, sniffling and red-eyed like she’s been crying) and Ana’s (whatever Steve is looking at on the computer) tie into each other. But that still doesn’t answer it completely.

“Only if you tell us what exactly we’re explaining,” Ana says, tone lighter than the situation demands.

“Come here and see,” Steve retorts, gesturing to the screen in front of him with an impatient expression until the cats oblige.

“Oh, that’s strange,” Edwin murmurs, looking the article over.

“ _Strange_?” Peggy asks, her voice sounding somehow high and low all at once. “Did you see that photograph? _That’s us_ , we were in the war, fighting Nazis, Nazis who were probably working for the same interdimensional malefic force we’re fighting right bloody now, and we _died_.”

“You don’t know that,” Edwin says, wary as anything. “It could just be a coincidence…”

“It’d be a hell of one,” Steve replies grimly.

Ana gives a little cat-sigh. “I’m afraid we don’t know anything about this,” she admits. “As far as we know, we were first resurrected in this era, with you, and with memories of the Iridescent Sovereignty but nothing else. I suppose we could look into it, we could ask our…”

She trails off, concerned, as she watches Peggy take the tablet and start clicking around, suddenly determined. Edwin watches as well, and Steve, but Steve thinks after a moment to ask, “What are you looking for, Peg?”

“I’m seeing if these coincidences have any living relatives,” Peggy murmurs, and after a moment she sits back, triumphant. “My coincidence has a baby brother who oh-so-conveniently lives here, in New York City, and he’s got a teenage daughter. She…” Here Peggy pauses, doing a bit more investigating. “According to her Facebook profile, she attends International High.”

“Are you going to go stalk a teenager?” Edwin asks, sounding alarmed.

Peggy stands. “No, but I think it’s a good time to start looking a little more actively for other Sailor Guardians, and my past life’s niece is as good a place to start as any.”

 

* * *

 

It’s actually not difficult to get onto the International High campus: Peggy sniffs around the university for potential volunteer opportunities and finds out that the high school is hosting a liberal arts-themed college fair in less than two weeks. From there, it’s not difficult for Peggy and Steve to sign up as volunteers - she at the political science department’s table, he at the art department’s table - and from there it’s just a matter of hoping that their girl, Sharon she’s called, is early-on ambitious, or if nothing else that they should happen to see her around. They don’t go so far as to stake out her class schedule or interests, because that would be creepy, but they’re very aware of who they’re looking for: blonde hair and golden-brown eyes, slight but athletic build, tendency toward sporty ponytails and blue uniform blouses instead of white.

“What exactly do you intend on doing?” Edwin asks them more than once.

“Finding out what she knows about our past lives,” Peggy says, “and seeing if by some chance she’s one of the others. God knows this can’t get any more convoluted.”

“And how will you know if she is?” Ana asks. “One of the others, that is.”

“Won’t you be able to tell?” Peggy asks in turn.

“We won’t exactly be at liberty to do anything in a crowded school hall,” Edwin points out. “Given that I don’t think they’ll invite cats to the college fair.”

Peggy smirks in a way that neither of the cats are terribly fond of and Steve says, very judiciously, “Nobody will be offended if you just stay out of your way in your carriers under the table and investigate quietly.”

Luckily, they’re the only ones stationed at their respective tables during their shifts, so that’s a few less people to worry about catching them at their slightly nefarious but well-intentioned plot (or more importantly, to catch them conversing with cats that are illicitly present in the building). The tables are near enough to each other that they shouldn’t have any problems communicating with each other, either.

From there it’s just a matter of waiting for the day to come. It’s not as if it’s otherwise going to be a waste of time, they’re both passionate enough about encouraging other people to follow their passions, especially if their passions fall in either of their own fields of study and interest. But they do keep their ulterior motive in mind, too.

The fair is being held at International High, but students from the whole school district are encouraged to attend. Passing students are sporting the International uniform, blue pants and blazers with white or blue blouses and red ties for boys and blue skirts with white or blue blouses and red ties for girls, but there are also small clusters of students in the green plaid pants or skirts and burgundy blazers or blouses with green ties of the new and prestigious Infinite School and even smaller groups of students in the Jewish Community School’s blue plaid pants or skirts and sweaters with white blouses, and plenty of uniforms that Peggy and Steve can’t place right off the top of their heads as well. It’s just after school has gotten out, so it’s no surprise that the high school students are all still in their uniforms, though many of them have untucked their blouses or tied their blazers around their waists, casual outside of school hours.

Both of their tables get a reasonable amount of traffic at first - Steve’s table draws more than one wide-eyed schoolgirl or schoolboy who clearly have more of an interest in the artist than the art he’s promoting, but he’s a good sport about it, and Peggy has a steady stream of students with interests varying from world history to social justice to pursuing a career in the law. It’s encouraging, after what they’ve recently learned about the apparently pervasive Nazi problem still plaguing their society, to see so many young people interested in doing something good for the world.

About an hour into the event, Steve is doodling on the back of a flyer, passing time during a lull in traffic, when he hears a girl’s voice - not, he notices, an American-accented one, but not a British one like Peggy’s either, something more Eastern European in nature - ask, “Is that your cat?”

He glances up, surprised and somehow not at all surprised at the same time. It’s the girl that he defended from bullies in front of the Jewish Community School those couple of weeks ago, still with her hair long and messy, still with her knee socks uneven. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says conspiratorially, setting his pen down and leaning forward on his elbow with a sly smile. Ana, in her carrier, has perked up, aware she’s being discussed. “I have to take her to the vet after this, and I wouldn’t have time to run home to pick her up between things.”

“I won’t tell,” the girl promises. “She’s very striking. I assume she’s a she?”

“She is,” Steve agrees. “Her name is Ana. How can you tell?”

The girl shrugs. “I just had a feeling. It’s not common to see an adult cat with blue eyes and that orange coloring. It’s very distinctive.”

“You know a lot about cats,” he says, not quite a question.

“I find them interesting,” she replies. “I always have. I've always wanted one, but it’s not viable for my brother and I to have pets right now, so I content myself with reading about them and admiring others’ cats.” She stops, apparently just having realized that she’s been talking at length, and colors slightly. “I’m sorry. Most people are too polite to tell me to stop when I get going, but I know it bores them.”

“I’m not bored,” he assures her. “I promise.” He pauses and works up a smile. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“I’m Wanda.” She tucks hair behind her ear and smiles right back, nervously. “You’re the man who stood up for my brother and I the other day.” It’s not a question.

“I wasn’t going to mention it because I didn’t want to seem like I was hunting for accolades,” he says wryly, “but yes, I am. I’m sorry if I offended you by getting in the way.”

Wanda snorts. “Why would I be offended?” she asks. “Those thugs were not going to leave us alone if we only asked them to nicely, and we were neither of us equipped to fight them like you could. It gave us a chance to get away, and that is the safest thing to do in situations like that.”

“I just didn’t want to assume,” Steve says. “I have a habit of acting first and thinking later when I see injustices being done, or that’s what my girlfriend tells me, anyway. But I also know from her that sometimes it’s not wanted, or at least not entirely wanted. I didn’t want you to think that I thought that you couldn’t defend yourselves.”

“As I said,” she remarks, “in this instance we couldn’t, not as well as you were able to. My brother is very good at running, in this case running away, and I am not entirely helpless, but those men were older and bigger than us, and meaner too. I appreciate the help and I appreciate your intention behind offering it. Not many people would.”

He frowns, because he wants to say that that isn’t true, but he doesn’t know for a certainty that he really could. People tend to be less good than he wants them to be. “Of course,” he says instead. “It’s important to me to stop bullies when I can.” He pauses and glances around, like he knows what he should be doing but had forgotten for a minute. “So, Wanda, are you interested in art?”

“Perhaps,” she says. “I draw from time to time, and I’ve always liked playing with paint, but I’m not sure that I’m serious about any of it. Mostly, I stopped to see your cat.”

He laughs and begins asking questions about the art she does and what she would be interested in doing, which is exactly what he’s supposed to do. Meanwhile, Ana is studying this newcomer intently, letting her suspicions develop.

Across the aisle, Peggy is finishing explaining the difference between some courses to a group of International High students that, to her delight, includes Sharon (her niece? Is that technically true?) among others. Most of them break away when she’s done, taking pamphlets, but Sharon lingers, studying Peggy curiously, like she too thinks something is going on.

Finally she asks, “What’s your name?”

“Peggy,” says Peggy. “What’s yours?” She knows, but she doesn’t want to admit that.

“Sharon,” says Sharon. “That’s just… that’s really funny. That your name is Peggy. What’s your last name?”

“Carter,” Peggy says.

Sharon’s jaw drops. “Okay, that’s more than funny, that’s just _weird_ ,” she says. “My last name is Carter.”

“Perhaps we’re distant relatives,” Peggy jokes.

“No, that’s - so I have an aunt named Peggy,” Sharon explains. “Had. She looked a _lot_ like you.”

“Looked?” Peggy asks carefully, not wanting to seem suspicious.

“She died a long time before I was born,” Sharon says, sighing. “She was my dad’s older sister. Older by a _lot_ , like he was still a baby when she died.” She pauses to smirk. “He was a really late baby, apparently, my grandparents didn’t mean to have him but they were really glad that they did, since both of their older children, she and her older brother, they, um, they actually fought in World War II. Against the Nazis. She was a badass, but…” She shrugs. “It’s war. Terrible things happen. I grew up hearing all these stories about how incredible she was, though.”

Peggy bites her lip. She’s glad, at least, that her possible past life was so impressive, but those terrible things… she’s afraid of what those might have been. Instead, though, she cracks a smile and says, “That’s another funny coincidence, then. I fight Nazis too.”

Sharon laughs. “Yeah?” she asks. “Come across a lot of them?”

“You’d be surprised,” Peggy says with an airy sigh. “I’ve been known to give them a good thrashing when I see them, though. Any fascists, really, or bigots.”

“Part of the whole poli sci social justice thing?” Sharon supposes.

“In a way,” Peggy says. She’s about to continue, start giving Sharon more of the department pitch, when a shriek sounds from across the commons, accompanied by what sounds like a spontaneously-emitted scare chord. That means there’s demon activity near, and Peggy frowns, because she can’t exactly transform here but she really needs to so she can go help. She turns to Edwin in his cat carrier for silent advice, but he’s staring at Sharon, just like across the way Ana is staring at Wanda.

Both girls’ eyes have begun to glow, Sharon’s pink and Wanda’s red. Both girls are Sailor Guardians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, as cats Ana looks like [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/22/f1/63/22f163e87f16fa4a14c1075b02fef7a0.jpg) and Edwin like [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/4a/51/e6/4a51e6ff3de8d1a38e4dbb264a184f35.jpg) though he's also got blue eyes.


	7. Deepening Mystery: Two New Guardians Join the Fight (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon and Wanda have their first battle as Sailor Guardians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw some vague assholes.

The hall clears as if by magic, everyone that isn’t directly associated with the Sailor Guardians or victim of the demon’s attack flooding out the doors faster than should be possible. Both Edwin and Ana take this opportunity to burst out of their cat carriers and jump up onto the tables beside Peggy and Steve, but nobody even has a chance to react. They’re too busy watching Wanda.

Wanda - this new as-yet-described Sailor Guardian, who by all rights should have to rely on Edwin and Ana for advice on what to do next - is charging across the commons, almost magically fast. Her hair streams behind her, her skirt ripples, and when she speaks her voice echoes as if over a speaker. Eyes still glowing red, she dashes toward the demon, who today appears to be a humanoid Siberian ibex, and even though she hasn’t been formally awakened or initiated and she hasn’t transformed she produces a paper charm from nowhere and flings it at the ibex, shrieking, “ _Talismanul Purificator_!”

This has the effect of stunning the creature, sending it stumbling back from the small group of boy students that it was attacking. They’re not yet released from their thrall, all still cringing and writhing up against the wall, but they’ve stopped twinkling as if the image of them was going staticky.

Edwin and Ana blink. Peggy and Steve blink. Sharon shouts, “What in the hell?”

Ana leaps up and turns a backflip, summoning two transformation pens out of nowhere. One is a pale, slightly peachy-pink color, and Edwin jumps across the aisle to retrieve that one and pass it to Sharon; the other is a deep scarlet, and Ana takes that one in her mouth and runs to Wanda.

“Take this and shout ‘Morganite Power,’ all right?” Edwin prompts.

“Why should I do that?” Sharon exclaims, looking baffled. “What will that do?”

Peggy sighs and pries the brooch from her blouse. “Just trust me,” she says to Sharon, and without further prelude she steps into the aisle between booths and shouts, “Blue Moonstone Power!”

As usual, she freezes and begins to glow, but Sharon doesn’t know that it’s usual and she gasps with panic. Across the way, Steve ducks down below his table, and when he climbs out he’s clad in his navy tuxedo. “I know this is a lot to take,” he says to Sharon, “but I promise we’ll explain.”

Peggy comes out of her trance, suddenly dressed in her black-and-blue-and-red sailor suit. “It’s just a transformation,” she tell Sharon. “Like for a superhero. You’ll be fine, you were chosen for this. You’re a Carter.” She flashes what’s attempting to be a reassuring smile.

Sharon gulps. “I’m taking a lot on faith here,” she mutters, but she grasps the transformation pen in her hand and, as instructed, shouts, “Morganite Power!” She freezes, then, and begins to glow a similar peachy-pink color for thirty seconds. When she finishes her transformation, she’s standing in what a ballet dancer might recognize as third position with one hand triumphantly in the air; her blonde hair is loose and wavy around her shoulders, where a minute ago it was held back with a rubber band; her own black-bodiced sailor suit comes with a pink collar and skirt, periwinkle blue bows, and a matching pink choker necklace; her earrings, spheres of polished morganite, match the transformation pen which matches the gem at the center of the bow over her chest; her gloves are the same as Peggy’s and her cross-strapped pumps are similar in style too, though they’re that same periwinkle blue.

“What in the _hell_?” Sharon cries again.

“You’re a Sailor Guardian,” Peggy says, running toward Wanda and the demon and motioning for the others to follow her. “The talking cats will explain later, but for now just know we need you to help us fight this creature and keep it from hurting any innocent civilians.”

Sharon gapes for a moment, then turns to survey her fellow students as they’re pinned against the wall. “Those guys are hardly innocent,” she remarks wryly - from what she can see, the anthropomorphic ibex has captured a few of her school’s most edgelord of neo-fascists (strangely enough, given her earlier conversations with Peggy).

“We still can’t allow the demon to steal their energy to fuel its master the Hydra,” Steve says.

“Wait,” Sharon says. “ _The_ Hydra? Like…”

Her questioning is cut off, though, by the demon’s shrill cry as it lunges for Wanda. She’s not yet transformed, which leads the others to believe that this has happened more than once already. “Yield to our great leader!” the ibex-lady screeches, reaching a tendril of electric energy out at Wanda.

“I do not yield!” Wanda shouts back, darting out of the way and silently flinging another paper charm. This one strikes the demon in the arm, not the forehead, so it isn’t completely knocked back, but it’s jarred enough to finally give Ana a chance to dart forward and hand Wanda the transformation pen. “Hold it up and say ‘Almandine Power,’” she instructs.

Wanda seems altogether less startled by this whole turn of events, and holds the pen aloft as she’s told. None of the others are surprised that her body glows a similar scarlet-red color, and Peggy and Steve step forward to protect her while she’s in her transformation state.

“Fools!” the demon exclaims, laughing cruelly. “The more of you join the fight against our great leader, the more spectacular our victory will be! There is no defeating us.”

“It’s you who’s the fool!” Peggy retorts, striking a pose and pointing at the demon as she continues. “School fairs are meant to be places where students can explore their dreams! I can’t allow you to interfere with students’ search for possibilities.”

“The only possibility is that they become energy for our great leader!” the ibex-lady (wearing, no less, a green leotard covered in diamonds) laughs. It turns back toward the incapacitated students and reactivates whatever Winter Kingdom magic was stunning them and sapping their energy, and all of them groan.

“We have to do something!” Sharon yelps. “Isn’t that what you said? We’re supposed to fight this thing?”

“Mm-hmm,” Edwin and Ana intone, nodding solemnly, and off everyone’s expectant stares Edwin adds, “Sailor Morganite, you can incapacitate the demon with an attack.”

“Like what - what she did?” she asks, frowning back at Wanda.

Wanda, for her part, has completed her transformation. The effect of her uniform is different; where Peggy and Sharon’s gloves are short, proper even, Wanda’s are fingerless, more like sleeves that go from wrist to elbow, and she’s still wearing black knee-highs and combat boots. Her main color is, very reasonably, more of that dark red, matching her gemstone the almandine; her bows are bright pink.

“That was a talisman,” she says with a careful smile. “That’s a sort of magic I’ve always been able to do. And it clearly isn’t working for very long on this - demon.” She glances at the cats to make sure she used the correct terminology.

“It’s still very helpful,” Ana says. “You’ll tell us about it later?”

“The attack,” Peggy hisses.

“Right,” Edwin says. “Right. Sailor Morganite. Put your hands up and yell ‘Lovely Bolt,’ your body will know what to do.”

Sharon shrugs. “You haven’t been lying so far,” she mutters. She throws her head back, clears her throat, and shouts, as loud as she can, “Lovely Bolt!” This has the effect of triggering a series of dance moves that culminate in her shooting a beam of hot pink fluorescent light, laser-sharp and abrupt, straight at the demon, who falls back from the boys and screams in pain.

“Good work, Sailor Morganite,” Steve says earnestly.

“I can’t really take responsibility for it,” Sharon replies, smirking.

Just then, a familiar whirl of smoke and rose petals appears in the air and their recent foe Stribog appears, laughing coyly behind his hand. “So there are _two_ new little dolls to play with,” he murmurs, his Russian accent pronounced.

Wanda glances up at him skeptically, hands on her hips. “Who is this?” she asks Peggy and Steve.

“I am called Stribog, and I am one of the Winter Kingdom’s Four Auxiliary Monarchs,” he announces, just as pompously as before. “And I am surprised to hear that a Sailor Guardian is from our part of the universe.”

“Your part?” Wanda asks. “I know of no Winter Kingdom. My mother was Romani and my father was German-Jewish. I spent my childhood in Eastern Europe.” But she still seems a bit shaken by the suggestion - derived, it would seem, from the similarities between their accents.

Stribog shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. “The Winter Kingdom is grander than such things,” he says. “You are from Earth, you would not know.”

Peggy folds her arms. “If your intention is to menace us, you’re not doing a very good job,” she says. “Wa - Sailor Almandine is a guardian like the rest of us.”

“And newly awakened, I see,” Stribog replies. “And the other? Where does she come from?”

“Right here,” Sharon calls petulantly. “What does it matter?”

“Perhaps it does not,” Stribog replies. He glances down at the ibex-lady disdainfully. “Will you really allow them to defeat you, Kozerog? I’m ashamed.”

The demon cringes and staggers to its feet. “I am not vanquished yet,” it says, almost sounding like it’s pleading.

“Was that a challenge?” Steve calls smugly, fingering his magical taser.

This has the apparently desired effect of making the demon lunge for them, howling nonverbally, and off Ana’s nod, Wanda steps forward and launches into a series of gravity-defying twirls that are accompanied by pink and red light, presumably originating from her hands, swirling around her before she launches them at the ibex-lady. “Tangible Truth Evocation!” she shouts, unhesitating.

The demon wails, falling to its knees, and over the sound of Stribog’s scolding, Edwin shouts, “Sailor Moonstone! Now!”

Peggy nods decisively and summons her Aspiration Dream Wand to launch into her Translucent Meditation (Wanda and Sharon both watch with awe, shielded behind Steve’s outstretched arms). The anthropomorphic ibex freezes in the middle of rising to its feet, then shimmers and evaporates like the rest.

“Curse you!” Stribog yells. “Every time you defeat one of our demons, you merely prolong the inevitable capitulation of the human race! Your only destiny is to serve our great leader, through providing energy and promoting ideals and whatever else we damn well see fit!”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “We’re going to keep prolonging it, then,” she says, twirling her Aspiration Dream Wand. “Our energy is our own and so are our minds.”

Before she can go on the offensive (which she’s clearly ready to do) Stribog up and vanishes, leaving the others standing there staring at the space he was occupying. And before any of them can react, one of the prospective victims slams his fist against the wall and shouts, “What the fuck was that?”

Sharon, the only one of them who knows these boys, rolls her eyes. They might know who she is or they might not, it doesn’t matter. “That was you being luckier than you deserve,” she mutters.

“Now everyone’s gonna think we need our asses saved by a bunch of _girls_!” another one groans.

“Well, and him,” the third says, waving a hand at Steve disdainfully. “But he’s not much better, parading in wearing his f -”

“Get out before our patience wears thin,” Wanda hisses, pointing dramatically at the exit.

The first boy narrows his eyes. “Or what? You gonna put a spell on us, little -”

“ _Out_ ,” Peggy shouts, waving her Aspiration Dream Wand in the direction they should go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Talismanul Purificator_ ; "purification talisman"


	8. Deepening Mystery: Two New Guardians Join The Fight (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lore is reiterated and elaborated on for Sharon and Wanda's benefit.

Peggy and Steve go for the cat carriers as soon as their transformations subside, correctly assuming that the school is going to put the career fair on hold for the rest of the afternoon, and as efficiently as they’re able, they gather everyone’s things, get the cats stowed away, and escort Sharon and Wanda out a back exit.

“Do we get to find out what the hell is going on?” Sharon asks wryly.

“Library?” Steve asks Peggy instead of directly answering.

“Library,” Peggy agrees.

Luckily, the City College legal library is only a few blocks away (the greater campus is spread out over several neighborhoods) and they make it there before the new girls have had much of a chance to panic or get too confused. Sharon especially does look around at the interior of the library with awe - it’s a recent remodel, and very grand although not patrician as one might expect - but everyone plays it cool until Peggy successfully locates and sequesters them in a private study room on the second floor. It’s a good thing the cats are sentient, because it means they’re capable of behaving themselves so as not to draw attention. It’s probably, technically, a cat-free library.

Once the door is shut and everyone is settled in (including the cats, who hop out of their carriers and make themselves comfortable on top of Steve’s backpack) Sharon clears her throat. “So.”

“So,” Peggy echoes. “Where should we begin?”

“Sailor Guardians,” Sharon says. “What does that even mean?”

Ana gives a little cat-sigh. “In a past alternate dimension, you were cosmic royalty who also served as warriors who protected the galaxy against potential invaders,” she says plainly.

“Space fascists, essentially,” Edwin clarifies.

“Thanks to the magic of Peggy’s past alternate dimension mother,” Ana continues, “your souls were set to be reborn in this dimension and timeline when the space fascists were at their peak and needed most to be combated.”

“Okay,” Sharon says warily. “You mentioned… the Hydra. That one of your space fascists?”

“That’s the premier space fascist,” Edwin declares. “Every evil we’ve faced can be traced back to the Hydra, who engages generals and minions across dimensions, and all with the intention of gathering energy to fuel itself, all the while spreading hateful ideals of superiority.”

“Okay,” Sharon repeats. “Because here, in _this_ dimension? The only Hydra I know of is a Nazi group. They did crazy evil experiments in the war. My aunt died fighting them. They dropped off the radar for a few decades but I’m at least sixty percent sure those assholes we kept from getting energy-sucked back at the school? The sexist bigots? I’m pretty sure they’re burgeoning members of the neo-Hydra gang that’s picking up steam in this and every major city in the Western world.”

Peggy and Steve blink. This does line up with their research, but admitting that is very possibly going to break Sharon’s brain further - to say nothing of Wanda, who’s been contemplative and silent this whole while. Still, there’s not much else they can do _but_ tell. “It’s possible, probable even, that the Nazi Hydra is the work of _the_ Hydra,” Steve says.

“Yeah, I didn’t get your name,” Sharon replies.

“Steve,” Steve says. “Steve Rogers.”

“Steve Rogers,” Sharon repeats. “As in… okay. So I’m getting the feeling it isn’t just a wacky coincidence that the other cosmic guardians, of which I am one, have the same names and - I’m just guessing - appearances as my long-dead aunt and her Nazi-fighting boyfriend.”

“There’s no way of knowing for sure,” Peggy murmurs, deliberating, “but most likely not.”

“So _are_ you my aunt and her boyfriend?” Sharon asks.

“Not exactly,” Edwin hesitates.

“And who are you, by the way?” Sharon adds.

“We were advisors to the first Queen Margaret back in the Iridescent Sovereignty,” Ana says. “Peggy’s mother, in the past alternate dimension.”

“We have our full memories of what happened in that time,” Edwin explains, “but we were also reborn to be able to advise the Sailor Guardians in this era.”

“And you’re cats that talk,” Wanda chimes in, sounding surprisingly nonchalant about this. Given that Ana was the reason she even spoke to Steve in the first place, the fact that this is the first interjection she offers is, however, not surprising in the least.

“Yes,” Ana says, sounding amused. “I’m not sure why. These are just the forms we’ve always had.”

“But going back to Sharon’s earlier question,” Edwin says, clearing his throat, “my current theory on the matter is that Peggy and Steve were initially reborn to battle the Hydra’s minions the first time they reached their ascendancy in this dimension. For whatever reason, this didn’t take…”

Peggy and Steve blink at each other. This is a new hypothesis to them, although it’s not all that far off from what they’ve already privately supposed.

“...and from what we can tell, the rest of you were not awakened at that time, which may account for the, ah, lack of success,” Edwin continues, making an apologetic face. “But now you’re all here, and the others should awaken, and we can… we can battle the Hydra once and for all.”

“The others?” Wanda asks.

“You’re far from the only Sailor Guardians,” Ana says. “But the four of you are a good start. And although I can’t speak to whether the Winter Kingdom’s soldiers are the last ones that the Hydra will send our way, I believe with all my heart that you’ll be able to defeat every last one of them.”

“Shame they won’t come all at once, then,” Peggy remarks, smirking. “We could just line them up and execute them summarily.”

“It’s possible many of them haven’t even been recruited yet,” Edwin sighs. “The goal, ultimately, will be to dispatch the Hydra itself, but as of yet that remains unfathomable. Nobody knows where it even resides.”

Sharon rolls her eyes. “We sure that’s not just in the hearts of men?” she asks. “Because its Nazi gang is definitely a problem there.”

“Yes,” Wanda adds. “Some of them are likely… subtler than others, but they do hurt people. My school has had three bomb threats in the last year and a half.”

“I’m sorry,” everyone else murmurs in concert, and every one of them looks like they’d be happy to elaborate but they’re not sure how much that would be appropriate since obviously they’re not at fault but they’ve also never experienced such a thing.

All of which Wanda can clearly understand and appreciate, and most of which she’s used to. But right now none of that is entirely the point, so she shrugs in the casual way that only someone who’s used to horrible absurd things happening can and says, “So it’s our job to fight the space fascists, then. Are we allowed to fight the regular fascists as well?”

“Yes,” Peggy says, smirking. “But from what I can understand, you have to fight the regular fascists as civilians. Our Guardian powers are only to be used on the odd monster-things and their superiors.”

“And conversely, a lot of everyday human combat techniques are going to be useless against the Hydra’s legions,” Edwin chimes in. “You can punch them if you like, but it’s not going to do much more than distract them for a moment. And human weapons are nullified. That’s just how it is.” He pauses to regard Wanda with curiosity. “Your… talisman, you said? That seemed effective, though. What _was_ that?”

Wanda smirks, just slightly. It’s clear she has had to explain this before, to less receptive audiences. She clears her throat and produces another talisman out of the air so they can all get a good look. “As I told that man, the -”

“Auxiliary Monarch,” Steve supplies helpfully.

“As I told the Auxiliary Monarch, my mother was Romani,” Wanda says. “Our culture has a strong tradition of magic, divination, and blessings, as has been bastardized in the stereotypes, and from a young age it was apparent that I had an inclination for such things.” She smiles, a bit indulgently. “I suppose this could be an early connection to my Guardian abilities, at least in part, but I had no way of knowing that before.”

“So what exactly can you do?” Sharon asks eagerly.

“Aside from the talismans, which are most commonly used for purifying objects but apparently can be used to temporarily purify demons as well, I sometimes experience precognition,” Wanda explains. “I can see things before they happen. Occasionally I have retrocognitive visions as well - discovering past events without being told in any logical way - and moments of extrasensory intuition, and once or twice I have been able to affect the outcome of events through powerful thought. None of these but the talismans can be summoned at will, unfortunately, but hints of these different forms of divination occur to me fairly commonly.”

The others all nod, because this isn’t much of a surprise after everything they already know, and Ana prompts, “Did your mother teach you…?”

“Some,” Wanda says. “She taught me to use the talismans, and helped me learn to focus somewhat. But she has been gone since I was a child, and so much of what I have learned has been from books and other Roma people’s accounts of these practices.”

“Is it inappropriate to say this is really cool?” Sharon asks, smiling sheepishly. “Because I don’t want to fetishize your culture or anything, but this is… really cool.”

“Thank you,” Wanda says, laughing. “I am used to people thinking that I am a freak for being able to do the things that I can do, so ‘really cool’ is a nice change, anyway.”


	9. Too Close For Comfort: The Guardians' Near Miss (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda's brother wants to meet her new friends.

Wanda gets a text message in the late afternoon, which she’s not expecting at all. Normally the only texts she gets are from her brother, but Pietro is sitting a few rows up from her tapping his pencil against his notebook impatiently (he always sits close to the front so he can be one of the first to leave, while she prefers the back because it offers more privacy). Of course she doesn’t take her phone out right there in the classroom, but it buzzes against her hip, quietly enough that nobody else notices but her, and as soon as she’s out in the hallway she slides it out and fumbles to open her messages.

Of course, Pietro pops up behind her, one eyebrow raised. “Is this to do with your mysterious new friends?” he asks, coming around to pester her face-to-face.

Wanda doesn’t look up immediately, but she does roll her eyes. “Yes,” she says, “and that means that it’s none of your business unless I say otherwise.”

“Of course it’s my business,” he exclaims, sounding affronted. “I should know who you know, because it’s my job to look after you.”

“I’m not a child,” she replies wryly, “or if I am then you are too.”

“I’m older than you,” he protests.

“By _twelve minutes_ ,” she retorts.

“I promised Abba and Daia I would take care of you, then,” he insists. She starts to walk toward her locker and he takes it in stride, walking backward to match pace with her and oblivious to anyone he may bump (they all get out of the way). “It’s my responsibility.”

“Is it?” she asks. “Or are you just jealous that I’ve met people I get along with and you’re not invited to come play with us?”

Pietro makes a face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters. “I just worry about you. You must admit that you sometimes have questionable taste in people.”

“Is this about _Victor_?” Wanda asks, fully granting him her attention now. “You were certainly jealous of him.”

“I was not!” he snaps. “That would be _wrong_. He was your boyfriend. I’m your brother.”

“What do you call it, then?” she counters. “You always tried to interfere with our… getting together.”

“He was too old for you,” Pietro replies, clearly aggravated. “You’re lucky I didn’t involve the authorities, they would have arrested him just for _getting together_ with you. And that’s not taking into account how cruel his roommate was to you, what he should have stopped but didn’t!”

“That was ages ago,” Wanda grumbles, flushing.

“And I’m still cleaning up after it!” he almost hisses, frowning deeply at her.

“That’s cruel,” she whispers.

“It’s true,” he says, voice steady. “Those boys hurt you, _achoti_ , and I was not able to stop it. That will not happen again.”

They arrive at Wanda’s locker and she begins to turn the combination, glad of the chance to turn her attention away from Pietro’s face for a minute. “I’m fine,” she says. “So my only boyfriend turned out to be thoughtless and his friend wanted to get me in trouble simply for being - it doesn’t matter. Many girls have thoughtless boyfriends, or bullying friends-of-friends. I hurt over it sometimes, but I am still standing.” She sighs, pulls her bookbag out to start shoving what she needs for her homework in it. “My new friends are nothing like that. Peggy and Steve are at university, but they’re already spoken for and I don’t much care to think of them in that way anyway. And Sharon is our age. They’re kind.”

Pietro watches critically as she rummages around, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “So let me meet them,” he says, almost challenging.

“I don’t need your approval, _achi_ ,” she mutters. “Everyone makes mistakes. You’re the one who had the idea to… pal around with that Mark. You don’t see me second-guessing every person you mention socially because of it.”

“Mark was different,” he says. “Mark was a bad influence. He didn’t consciously hurt me.”

“Associating with him got you beat within an inch of your life,” she replies archly. “I’d say ‘bad influence’ is an understatement.”

He shrugs self-consciously. “So I accidentally joined a gang for a little while, I got out when I realized it was a bad idea,” he says.

“And I broke up with Victor after I realized that he was a bad idea,” she counters. “Please give me the same amount of credit you give yourself.”

“I still want to meet your friends,” he insists, smiling brightly.

So Wanda focuses her attention on her phone and the message she received. It’s from Sharon, which she supposes does make sense; they all exchanged numbers for the reason of using them, after all. She just isn’t used to people initiating contact.

_> >Are you coming after school? I can come by and pick you up if you want._

They’re just going to Peggy and Steve’s apartment, and it’s sort of sweet that Sharon apparently has concerns about Wanda being comfortable hauling ass on the subway from the Lower East Side to Hamilton Heights, but the worry is unfounded. She’s lived in the city for years. Roughly twenty minutes on the subway is - well, it’s not her favorite thing, too many strangers and too much noise and too much stink, but she’s used to it. She does it twice a day getting from her and Pietro’s apartment to the Jewish Community School. But Sharon is being so persuasive.

_> >It’s like, less than ten minutes between my school and yours, it’s not a big deal._

So Wanda glances at her brother and shakes her head in resignation. “Fine, you can come meet them,” she says. “But then you’re getting out of our way.”

“Fine,” Pietro replies, still grinning.

Wanda hurries out a response, then, biting her lip to hide her own smile. It’s nice feeling wanted, she thinks

_> >Text me when you arrive. Also, my brother is coming to meet everyone. He insisted._

 

* * *

 

It takes a little more than ten minutes, which is what Wanda expected (she’s noticed that optimism in this city manifests sometimes as whether you over- or under-estimate public transit times), but as soon as her phone buzzes she rolls her eyes good-naturedly and grabs his hacky sack from midair. “Come on,” she says, tossing the stupid toy up and down idly. “Sharon is downstairs. We should hurry so we don’t waste time waiting for trains.”

Pietro sighs, utterly beleaguered, but he follows his sister out. “What does she look like?” he asks eagerly. “So I can spot her before you do.”

“She’s blonde,” Wanda says, not bothering to address the challenge. “She goes to International, like I said. She…” She doesn’t finish her thought, though, as the very girl she’s describing pops up and throws arms around her from behind. Normally she doesn’t like when people hug her without asking or at least warning her, but she finds she doesn’t mind at all. Instead she starts laughing. “She’s right here, apparently.”

“So she is,” Pietro declares, nodding appraisingly at Sharon. “Hello. I’m Pietro. You must be Sharon.”

“You must be Pietro,” Sharon replies, smirking. “You two don’t look much alike, for twins.”

“Fraternal twins are actually much more common,” Wanda chimes in, and then immediately she makes a face at herself for saying something so asinine. “Also, he bleaches his hair.”

“It makes me more noticeable,” Pietro says, practically tossing his head.

“If by more noticeable you mean ‘like a backup dancer from a 90s boy band,’” Wanda jokes.

“And you, with your destroyed tights and black nail polish, are every gothic-grunge Wednesday Adams wannabe from that same time,” Pietro replies with a smile, never missing a beat.

“I think it’s cute,” Sharon says, nudging Wanda’s shoulder for just a split second longer than absolutely necessary (Wanda can’t help but blush). “You two are cute.”

“I know,” Pietro says smugly. He’s the sort to flirt with everyone, though he rarely means anything by it; he also pretends to be more confident than he, strictly speaking, is, but that’s secret to everyone but Wanda.

A towncar parked on the street honks its horn, and Sharon laughs. “C’mon, we better get going,” she says, and when the twins turn toward the subway tunnel she adds, “No, over here.”

“That car is _yours_?” Wanda asks, blinking.

“My dad’s, actually,” Sharon explains sheepishly. “He’s, uh, he’s overprotective. He’s an international diplomat, or businessman, or something, or maybe both, I’m not honestly sure because he refuses to explain it properly for my own safety. He’s kind of paranoid after… uh. He’s kind of paranoid. Point is…” She opens the back door and motions for the twins to slide in. “More often than not I get to reap the benefits of his paranoia in the form of a private car.”

“That’s good paranoia,” Pietro cracks. He gets comfy, sprawled out as much as he can with the girls on the seat beside him (neither Wanda nor Sharon seem to mind having to cuddle a bit). “I barely even remember the last time we rode in a privately owned car, _achoti_ , do you?”

The question seems to take Wanda a moment to register, but she shakes her head. “It’s just the subway and the bus and our feet for us common folk,” she says, trying and somewhat failing to joke.

“ _Achoti_ ,” Sharon repeats curiously. “What’s that? Can I ask? Is that okay?”

The twins glance at each other. Not that Wanda is surprised by Sharon’s polite hesitation, but it’s refreshing after the less-polite reactions their speaking their parents’ languages have garnered over time. “It’s Hebrew,” Wanda explains. “It means sister. _Achi_ is brother. Our parents, we - our father was Abba most often to us, that’s also Hebrew, and our mother was Daia, that’s Romani. I suppose it’s meant to be a sign of endearment, using the private words.”

“They’re not private,” Pietro says, playfully chiding. “Hebrew and Romani aren’t secrets.”

“To most people they are,” Wanda points out. To Sharon she adds, “Thank you for asking nicely. Some people do not extend that courtesy.” She rolls her eyes. Sharon knows to whom she’s referring.

“Of course,” Sharon exclaims. “I want to be respectful and… stuff. That’s important to me. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

Wanda’s heart jumps for reasons she can’t quite explain, but she nods, and before she can say anything Pietro nudges her. “That is,” he agrees. “Respectful friends.” He sounds approving (and also like he’s making a point about his and Wanda’s earlier discussion).

The latter implication is easy for Wanda to pick up on, but she’s not going to make a fuss in front of Sharon. That would be too rude. “So,” she says instead, “did your driver have the address for Peggy and Steve’s already?”

“I mean, I gave it to him when we left my school,” Sharon says, shrugging. “GPS typically needs directions like that.”

“Peggy and Steve are college students?” Pietro asks, though he knows. “And they’re, what, tutoring you?” He sounds doubtful. It’s not as if Sharon and Wanda are at the same school, taking the same classes, but then they’re in the same year, their courses can’t be all that much different…? The question lingers.

“Sort of, yeah,” Sharon replies. “Peggy’s a… distant relation of mine. She’s sort of just taken us under her wing, after…”

“After the career fair,” Wanda fills in. “Strange happenings make strange bedfellows.” She flushes. “I just meant… you know. Euphemistically. As it were.”

“Are you nervous?” Pietro asks Wanda archly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _achoti_ ; "sister"  
>  _achi_ ; "brother"  
>  _abba_ ; "father" (there is discourse on this translation but in modern Hebrew it can be used in this context apparently?)  
>  _daia_ ; "mother"
> 
> Victor and Mark are apparently aliases, belonging to certain humanoid robots, that I didn't know of until I was writing this, but there they are.


	10. Too Close For Comfort: The Guardians' Near Miss (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians do battle, with surprisingly higher stakes.

“We’ve company, love,” Peggy calls into the apartment from the front door where she’s face-to-face with the waiting teenagers.

“Sharon and Wanda, I know,” Steve says, pushing up from the couch to come greet.

“And Wanda’s brother,” Peggy says, loudly enough that the cats will hear and know not to break the illusion of their catness.

“Oh!” Steve exclaims, equally loud and equally jovial (with a similar intention). He hurries over with a big, sincere smile and nods politely, saying, “I’m Steve, this is Peggy, it’s nice to meet you…?”

Not that they don’t know his name, but it’s polite to let him say it.

“Pietro,” says Pietro, nodding politely. He doesn’t make to shake hands, so Steve and Peggy don’t either, but they all stand in the foyer exchanging nods and glances until Wanda laughs and sighs.

“There is no need to get formal,” she says, imminently amused.

Steve and Peggy chuckle at each other. “Do you want to come in for tea?” Peggy asks, instead of addressing the other, more intangible concern.

“No, thank you,” Pietro shrugs, still mannered. “I just wanted to come meet these people my sister suddenly can’t stop spending time with. She doesn’t make new friends very often, you see.”

Wanda rolls her eyes and nudges her brother pointedly. “You’ve done your duty, _achi_ , you can move on,” she says. “If your embarrassing behavior wasn’t enough to startle them off, nothing will be.”

Pietro raises an eyebrow at her, but he nods in concession. “This is probably true,” he agrees. “I’m going to take a walk, I think. Send me a text when you’re finished.”

“That’s going to be a pretty long walk,” Sharon says, somewhat joking around.

“I have good endurance,” Pietro replies. “I’m around when you need me. Good-bye for now.” And with that slightly formal farewell, he waves and turns out the way they came in, searching in his pocket for his mp3 player and headphones.

Peggy shuts the door behind the other girls as soon as is mannerly and ushers them over the the table. It’s not a lie, they really are here to do homework, but that’s not the only motivation, which is rapidly becoming normal for all of them; this is emphasized by Edwin and Ana appearing, rubbing on Wanda and Sharon’s legs because they may be sentient but they’re still catlike enough cats that they thoroughly appreciate the occasional scritch.

“Your brother seems nice,” Steve says, pulling chairs out for the younger girls even though it makes them roll their eyes fondly.

“My brother is a pain in the ass,” Wanda corrects wryly, starting to unpack her books. “But he is all I have and we both take this seriously.”

“Well, good,” Steve declares. “Family is… it’s one of the most important things there is.” Of course, considering his own biological family is (in this life as well as the last ones) gone, he’s clearly meaning not just blood but the connections that matter, but they can all intuit that. They’re a strange family, but they realize that’s what they’re becoming.

“They’re really endearing,” Sharon chimes in, grinning. “All this sibling banter stuff, kind of makes me wish I wasn’t an only.”

Peggy chuckles. “It can be ridiculous at times, having someone else so close, and I can’t even imagine how much truer that is for twins,” she says with a respectful nod in Wanda’s direction, “but it’s worth it, I think.”

“Okay,” Sharon says, leaning forward on her hand, “so, just to interject - if 1940s Peggy was my dad’s older sister, does that mean that as now-Peggy you have your own version of my dad?”

“Not yet,” Peggy says. “I’m not ruling it out entirely, but the chronology is off. I’m not yet the age 1940s-Peggy was when your father was born.”

“Besides that, your father is still alive,” Edwin adds. “Peggy, and I’m assuming she’s also referring to her older brother Michael in this moment - yes? - they were killed in the 1940s and therefore available to be reborn in this era. There’s no need to rebirth your father when he already exists. Mind, I’m just speculating, but that would seem to make sense.”

“It does,” Ana agrees.

“But to elaborate on where I think you were also going with this,” Peggy says to Sharon, “I’m thinking on, like Edwin suggested, my relationship with Michael. There’s not nearly so much a gap in our ages as there was between 1940s-us and your father, so we were always fairly close. He encouraged my more unladylike interests and sensibilities.”

“Encouraged, past tense?” Sharon asks.

“Oh, Michael’s still alive,” Peggy says. “Thank goodness for that. But he’s still over in England. My migration to the States was rather a whim - although I know now that it was for reasons I didn’t realize, namely that we all seem to be fated to wind up in this same place at the same time.”

“I guess so,” Sharon says, sounding somehow wistful. “It’s like something out of fairy tales.”

“It’s some kind of tale, anyway,” Wanda smirks. “Destiny, fate, all that. But it’s hardly disputable at this point, is it?’

They seem to be all taking a moment to contemplate this when, through the half-open window, they hear a scream and a telltale burst of spontaneous song. “Everyone, transform!” Edwin exclaims, though they’re all already preparing to do that.

“Blue Moonstone Power!” Peggy shouts.

“Morganite Power!” Sharon shouts.

“Almandine Power!” Wanda shouts.

Steve stands there and thinks about it.

Within thirty seconds, all of their transformations are complete. “Hurry!” Ana implores, somewhat needlessly as they’re all heading for the door.

“We’ll stay here and guard the apartment,” Edwin says.

The four of them all run down the stairs, out the door, and onto the street as quick as they can, where they find a humanoid horseshoe bat in a spangled leotard currently draining the energy of several teenage boys - including Pietro. Wanda makes a funny strangled noise in the back of her throat, but Sharon holds her back slightly and whispers, “The best thing we can do is defeat the demon. We shouldn’t reveal our identities.”

Wanda looks alarmed, but she nods. “That might put him in even greater danger,” she agrees. “But - wait, that means I shouldn’t use my talisman. Pietro knows I can do that.”

“We’ll work around it,” Peggy says over her shoulder, coming to a halt and striking a hands-on-hips pose. “Young people should be able to walk and play on the sidewalk without fear! Whether they’re doing art or sporting activities or simply going from place to place, they should remain unmolested by villains such as you! Guided by the natural rhythms of life, I will punish you!”

The demon pauses in its attack, seeming mostly curious about the exclamation, and without thinking Sharon strikes a similar pose and does her best to keep that distraction going. “Any monster that would disturb innocent passersby deserves to meet its end! I call on the frequency of divine compassion to end your evil ways!”

“And it would be unthinkable to allow you to harm these people for your own selfish gain!” Wanda adds, sounding like she’s making this up as she goes along. “With unyielding strength, I insist that you - _manifest reality!_ ”

Pietro glances over, confused, but he doesn’t show any signs of recognizing her. That’s a small comfort, at least, and must be tied up in the magic of the transformation somehow. (She’ll ask later.)

The bat-thing laughs cruelly and affects a cocky posture. “You think your words can stop me?” it calls. “I am chosen by our great leader. I will not be foiled by silly girls making silly speeches.” To punctuate this, it lashes out with a blast of golden-brown electric energy, scattering the Sailor Guardians in one go.

“Lovely Bolt!” Sharon shouts, entering her attack stance with clear intent to harm.

As the demon growls and tries to fight back, Steve and Wanda go over to the would-be victims and help them up. Wanda very pointedly does not look her brother in the eye, but if he recognizes her under the vibrantly-colored sailor suit he’s wise enough to avoid saying anything, and soon the boys are all standing and running away from the scene of the battle.

Until the demon breaks away from Sharon’s attack and lashes out at the nearest boy, who of course is Pietro. He goes sprawling to the ground, yelping in obvious distress as his body turns staticky from the way his energy is being drained.

“No!” Wanda yells before she can help herself. Her eyes flash red and she gears up to attack, shouting, “Tangible Truth Evocation!” and sending pink-and-red light flying at the monster.

It’s successful, perhaps more so than Sharon’s Lovely Bolt, because it knocks the demon back and makes it howl with frustration. This gives Pietro a chance to (with Steve’s assistance) stand and run off for real this time and gives Peggy a chance to summon her Aspiration Dream Wand.

“Fools!” the monster shouts. “You will be decimated by our great leader!”

“Not bloody likely!” Peggy retorts, almost cheerful. “Translucent Meditation!”

This dispatches the demon effectively, and soon the guardians are standing about looking at each other with startled expressions. “That was a new development,” Wanda says. “That the demon might go after someone we care about. I suppose it makes sense, and it might not even have known, but it was - startling.”

Steve lays a hand on Wanda’s arm. “We got it worked out, though,” he says. “And hopefully your brother is none the wiser about our secret.”

“What would happen if he knew?” Wanda asks.

“I’m not sure,” Peggy admits, “but I’d just as soon we didn’t find out.”


	11. Radio Scheme: Finding Other Methods To Prey On Vulnerable Youth (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The college radio station is having a contest. It is not entirely on the level.

“ _This is Josef Zephyr at 93.3 The Fuzz, just coming off of another hour of chillwave indiecore electronica for all your late-night study sesh needs. And a reminder for all our listeners: our Summer of Love contest is still open! Want to woo the guy or gal of your dreams and bolster your bank account at the same time? Submit a playlist, a love note, or both dedicated to your special someone for a chance to have your contribution shared on the air! All the entrants will be entered into our raffle for a $3000 gift certificate, and everyone whose contribution gets air time will also receive a free dinner for two at the date-night destination of their choice. More details can be found on our website, ninetythreethreethefuzz.cc.ny.edu.”_

 

* * *

 

“You hear about this, English?” Angie asks, coming to sit beside Peggy and bringing them both coffees as she does. “I guess the hipster college radio station musta come across some generous donation or something, ‘cause they’re holding a hell of a giveaway.”

Peggy raises an eyebrow, reaching for her latte. “I can’t say I’ve ever listened to the hipster college radio station,” she remarks.

“Oh, it’s not half bad,” Angie says. “I mean, I’m not really an electronica kinda girl when I’m doing the DJing myself, but it wasn’t a bad way to kill half an hour till my friend’s two AM showtunes show came on.”

“Your… what?”

Angie shrugs. “One of the guys in my modern dance class hosts a program a couple times a week where he plays obscure songs from musicals for a couple hours in the middle of the night,” she explains. “I was up anyway, so I figured I’d tune in. Except I was a little early, so I got to hear the tail end of Josef Zephyr’s something-something hipster digital music blast, and I got to hear him announce this contest they’re doing.”

“It’s clearly interesting enough to you for you to mention it, so what’s going on?” Peggy asks, chuckling.

“Well, basically you can write in with love notes or song dedications or possibly both,” Angie says. “And you get entered into a raffle, and the notes or dedications they play on-air get a free dinner for two, too. The raffle’s for like $3000, it’s crazy.”

“$3000, really,” Peggy hums. “That _is_ rather a lot for a college radio station to be tossing around.” It’s more suspicious than truly surprising to her, but for reasons she can’t articulate.

“Not to mention all the free dinners,” Angie says. “They didn’t say how many they’re giving away, either. It could wind up being another couple thou, I feel like.”

Peggy frowns. That open-endedness is suspicious to her, too, though she hadn’t thought about it in those terms until Angie said anything. “What a strange place to utilize a wealthy benefactor,” she says.

“Aw, you’re cute when you get all Agatha Christie,” Angie teases. “But yeah, it’s weird. Not bad weird, I don’t think, ‘cause hey, I’m never gonna whine about free money. But unusual. Does that kinda thing happen around here a lot? City College’s anonymous benefactors funding random bursts of goodwill?”

“Not this randomly,” Peggy says. “There’s always a first time for everything, though.”

“Yeah,” Angie sighs, trailing off wistfully.

“Were you thinking about entering, then?” Peggy asks, pretty sure she can get away with doing so playfully.

“It crossed my mind,” Angie shrugs, though she blushes a little with the admission. “I could dedicate a couple classics to you, or praise you on the air. And I wouldn’t even hafta say your name, I checked the website for rules, I could just say _to my best gal_. My _gal pal_ , even.” She nudges Peggy, grinning. “I could talk about how pretty your smile is, or how even though I squeal about it sometimes I sort of like that you can pick me up and carry me around all dashing, or how you do that thing with your fingernails when we’re -”

“I should hope you wouldn’t talk about that on the radio!” Peggy exclaims, pretending to be scandalized (she is, a little, but not as much as she’s putting on).

“Your moments of prim and proper are also really cute,” Angie chuckles. “I wasn’t really gonna. I mean, it’d be fun to get to take you out for some fancy dinner, and $3000 is nothin’ to sneeze at, but I wouldn’t wanna seem like I was trying to, y’know. Win at being your partner.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it that way,” Peggy insists.

“Nah, but still,” Angie says. “It’d feel kinda weird if you and I went out all ritzy-classy while your boyfriend stayed home and ate burgers from a box, I guess.”

“Honestly, I think Steve would be happier with the box-burgers,” Peggy smirks. “He’s a gentleman, but anything too formal doesn’t really suit him.” That’s one of the great ironies of his crime-fighting persona wearing a tuxedo, in fact. “And he wouldn’t be bothered.”

Angie shrugs again. “Yeah, but still,” she says. “I figure there’s other kids who need free dinner or a few thousand bucks in the bank account more than I do, too.”

“How good of you,” Peggy hums, kissing Angie on the cheek and then the mouth.

 

* * *

 

“So my brother was playing his radio super loud last night,” the girl sitting a couple of rows in front of Wanda is saying to her friends, “and he was listening to his pretentious college station ‘cause of course he was, 93.3 The Fuzz or whatever, some weird electronic stuff, but I started listening too ‘cause the DJ sounded kinda hot? Kinda had a sexy James Bond villain thing going on.”

“Name one sexy James Bond villain, I dare you,” her friend cracks.

“Hypothetically, I mean,” the first girl says, sounding exasperated. “Like, maybe foreign and kinda dangerous, but intriguing. Whatever. So the sexy James Bond villain says they’re having this contest, right, anyone who listens can enter - doesn’t have to be people who’re in college, could be anyone - and basically what you do is like, you write someone a love letter, or you make them a tiny playlist, or something, and you submit it to the radio station, and if they play it on the air the station basically pays for you and whoever go out on a date, and just for entering you could possibly win like, $3000.”

“Damn,” says a third girl. “That’s crazy. Just for writing a love letter?”

“Or whatever,” the first girl agrees.

“But then you have the problem of your love letter potentially getting read on the radio where anyone could hear it,” the second girl argues. “Isn’t that kind of embarrassing?”

“I think it’s romantic,” the first girl says. “You wouldn’t have to sign it with your actual name, is the thing, or you could just call the other person something cute. And imagine, you’re listening to weird electronica in the middle of the night and the radio DJ reads this letter to you from the guy you have a secret crush on.” She sighs dreamily. “That’s like, fairytale material.”

They continue talking, probably about this odd radio contest, but Wanda’s heard all she needs to. The first thought she manages to isolate from the others is that she’s intrigued. It’s not a horrible seduction technique, actually; provided you’d know the person you had designs on was listening, it’s what she sees as an ideal way to go about it. You have an opportunity to say what you feel while they listen, but you don’t have to say it to their face, which can be terrifying, and if they have a negative reaction they have time to think about how best to phrase it before they come to you with their concerns, which means they’re probably going to be more controlled about it. You don’t even have to say either of your names, which is even better - you could, if pressed, always pretend you’d meant the note for someone else. Sure, everyone else listening will hear whatever you have to say, but it’s not like gossip doesn’t spread anyway and at least you wouldn’t have to see or hear their immediate reactions to your behavior.

It’s appealing. All she’d - all you’d have to do is write something little out, or slap a few songs tog ether, and wait. If your bit wasn’t chosen, no harm no foul.

She could easily think of something coherent enough to send in. A song or two about girls who are like sunshine, or just a little _thank you for being kind to someone so unexpected_ , or -

She could do this thing, but she’s not sure she’s brave enough. She’s not sure she wants to know the answer, if the answer is no. Maybe is always better than no, even though yes would be better than both.

But then it dawns on her that the whole setup is… unusual. That a college radio station has that much money to throw around, that’s not normal; that a college radio station would welcome submissions from anyone, including high schoolers or proper adults, is odd too; that a college radio station has a DJ who could be described, by a random girl, as “maybe foreign and kinda dangerous, but intriguing” is the most unnerving part of all. She herself is foreign, that’s not the concern of itself, but foreign _and_ dangerous… it’s a leap, but she has a feeling it’s the right one.

As soon as she’s out of class, she gets on her phone to search for this 93.3 The Fuzz. She narrows its DJs down to those who were playing last night, then the men, then she looks to see who might be most likely associated with “weird electronic stuff” -

She wishes she could say it’s a surprise that the tiny picture of the DJ who seems most viable is a tiny picture of none other than Stribog, their errant Auxiliary Monarch.

It’s not a surprise.

>> _All of you, we have a problem on our hands._


	12. Radio Scheme: Finding Other Methods to Prey on Vulnerable Youth (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sailor Guardians confront Stribog at his radio station.

“ _This is Josef Zephyr at 93.3 The Fuzz, reminding all our listeners that our Summer of Love contest is still open! Submit a playlist, a love note, or both dedicated to your special someone for a chance to have your contribution shared on the air! Prize information and more details can be found on our website, ninetythreethreethefuzz.cc.ny.edu.”_

The gathered Guardians all frown deeply at each other and Steve turns the volume down as the radio station starts to play more of its promised indie electronica. “So you’re sure it’s not on the level?” he asks Wanda, not for the first time.

“I’m positive,” Wanda says, reaching for the tablet on the table in front of them and going to open up the 93.3 The Fuzz homepage. “See there? Josef Zephyr, as he claims to be called, is Stribog. You recognize his face, right?”

Sharon frowns at the picture. “I _think_ so,” she says. “I believe you, at any rate. I just don’t… it’s like there’s some sort of magic around it. I don’t know that I would have caught it if you hadn’t said anything.”

Edwin nods. “It’s possible that your mental abilities allowed you to more easily cut through layers of Winter Kingdom deception, Wanda,” he says. “Some layer of magical subterfuge isn’t unlikely, given that they’ll want to be able to infiltrate humanity in as many ways as possible without hindrance.”

Peggy snorts. “They clearly didn’t plan for us, though,” she says, then she smiles at Wanda and corrects, “For you. Thank you for bringing his to our attention, dear. Angie told me about this and it seemed odd, but I wasn’t able to put the details together myself. Now we can do something about it!”

“We’d better act quickly,” Wanda says. “It sounded like those girls in my class were already halfway to smitten with him, like they were going to join the contest and therefore somehow make themselves vulnerable at any moment.”

Peggy glances at the clock on the microwave. “His show begins in an hour and a half. That’s ample time to get down to the radio station and confront the bastard, I think.”

Once again leaving the cats to watch the apartment, then, they set out for campus, deciding not to transform until they get a bit closer (not wanting to arouse suspicion on the way, and also because it’s not like transforming makes them any faster or gives them other travel advantages). It’s lucky they still appear as civilians, though, because on their way out of the building they come across a cluster of girls in the lobby, all folded over on themselves groaning; not that the Sailor Guardians couldn’t help people apparently suffering some sort of suddenly-onset illness, but it’s another matter of not causing suspicion or panic. Sailor Guardians appear where villains are, not in random untouched apartment buildings.

“Are you alright?” Peggy asks, swooping in to speak to the girls. “Did you eat something strange, perhaps?”

“I don’t know!” one of the girls moans, making a pitiful face. “I ate dinner like, hours ago, and by myself, and I didn’t start feeling cruddy until just recently.”

“We all started feeling this way at the same time,” another of them adds. “Right after we got back from the radio station, we were going to drop off our entries to that contest and pick up our raffle tickets.”

Wanda frowns, stepping closer and reaching a hand out curiously. “That’s what you’re all holding,” she says, though it should be a question. What follows after a moment is, though: “May I see one?”

“Sure, I guess?” a third girl manages, holding her ticket out.

It takes only a moment for Wanda to discern that it’s been somehow enchanted, presumably as a tool of Stribog’s to weaken people and steal their energy remotely. She can’t say this where normal people can hear, though, so she just looks meaningfully at her friends and hopes they pick up on her intention.

Luckily, there’s not really much else they could discern, so Steve sighs and says, “You should all get down to the health center. It’s probably just a bug, but better safe than sorry.”

“Inna minute, maybe,” the first girl sighs.

The Guardians say their polite goodbyes and hurry outside, and Wanda makes sure they’re alone before she says, sounding breathless, “You saw that, right?”

“I saw that you saw something,” Sharon says. “The raffle ticket, there’s something wrong with it?”

Wanda nods. “There’s an enchantment on it,” she confirms. “I’m not sure of the details, exactly, but it was radiating negative power. It was _definitely_ something of the Winter Kingdom.”

Peggy sighs. “Goodness only knows how many other poor people have fallen victim to this,” she says. “Let’s get down to the station and give him a piece of our minds, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

The nice thing about it being so late at night is that the radio station is fairly empty, as is the corridor of the student union it’s located just off of; they’re able to transform without witnesses and dash in, with only a moment to worry about the girl at the reception desk. “What are you doing?” she asks, sounding panicked.

“Josef Zephyr is a monster,” Wanda says, with as much Sailor Almandine authority as she can muster.

“Oh?” the receptionist asks, sounding amused. “Perhaps he is not the only one.”

Before them, the receptionist stands and morphs into a leotard-wearing humanoid hedgehog.

“Sonic didn’t prepare me for this,” Sharon quips.

“Let us through,” Steve says, his jaw jutting out defiantly.

“Never,” the hedgehog demon says.

Everyone makes as if to start scuffling, but the door to the studio opens and Stribog - Josef Zephyr - steps out, looking as arrogant as ever. “I was wondering when you would figure out my plot,” he declares. “It took longer than I expected, I must admit.”

Peggy glares at him and strikes a pose. “Many young people spend their time fantasizing about romantic relationships,” she announces. “Young love is sacred! Even if it doesn’t last, it can create important memories for people and teach them things about themselves. It’s wrong to take advantage of someone’s desire to express their feelings, not to mention to bribe people to surrender their energy to you unknowingly in exchange for the offer of potential financial gain!”

Stribog laughs cruelly. “Love is an illusion invented by those who would see others distracted by fleeting emotion and the lure of the flesh,” he says, starting to levitate for dramatic effect. “And all forms of capitalism are corrupt and only fit to be manipulated.”

“Oh, great,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Evil space Nazis _and_ space Communists.”

“Yezh, dispose of them,” Stribog instructs with a wave of his hand, nodding at the demon in a way that almost seems bored.

“It would be my pleasure, master,” the demon says.

“ _Master_?” Sharon and Wanda chorus, sounding offended.

“Don’t fail me,” Stribog warns before he disappears in a cloud of smoke and rose petals.

“I will please my master and our great leader,” the hedgehog declares, approaching the Sailor Guardians with an evil smirk.

“That travesty of a man is fit to be no one’s master, and even soulless anthropomorphic evil creatures don’t deserve to be beholden to a _master_ ,” Wanda mutters, winding up to begin her attack. “Tangible Truth Evocation!”

But the demon laughs, dodges the blasts of pink and red light that Wanda produces, and counters with a stronger bolt of black and purple energy that knocks Wanda off her feet with a cry. “Foolish humans,” it says, clearly amused.

“We’re reincarnated space royalty, you asshole,” Sharon shouts furiously. “Lovely Bolt!”

Perhaps it’s the added rage behind the attack, but this one actually jars the demon, giving Sharon a chance to run to where Wanda is just managing to sit up. She puts a hand on Wanda’s back and Wanda murmurs, “I’m fine, really.”

“I just want to make sure of that,” Sharon says. “You took quite a fall.”

“I’ve had worse,” Wanda replies, trying to smirk ironically.

“Really?” Sharon asks.

“Probably not,” Wanda admits. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Sharon exclaims, helping Wanda stand and then, before either of them can think twice about it, kissing her on the cheek.

Wanda turns bright red. “Oh,” she squeaks.

Peggy turns back to look at them and starts chuckling. This isn’t surprising to her in the slightest. “You’re both alright, let’s keep going,” she says, but she doesn’t sound upset.

“You’re so small and weak!” the demon squeals, perhaps trying to pretend that it’s not being pummelled by Steve (he’s produced an elegant cane, as would be used by a certain kind of gentleman, and is primarily using that as his weapon). “Thinking you can stop our great leader.”

“We don’t think that, we know it,” Peggy says. “Translucent Meditation!”

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for them to find Stribog, by now on the roof of the student union building and brooding like an evil Batman.

“We ended your monster,” Peggy announces.

“Sailor Moonstone ended your monster,” Steve corrects proudly.

“The rest of you did help,” Peggy points out, somewhat in an aside.

“So?” Stribog asks. “I will produce others. You are ignorant if you believe anything else.”

“Then we’ll defeat those too,” Sharon calls. Her arm, it must be noted, is around Wanda’s waist, allegedly to support her if she’s still feeling weak on her feet. (She’s not still feeling weak on her feet.)

“Fools!” Stribog shouts.

“Not so foolish as you and yours,” Wanda retorts, and Peggy gears up to attack again, hoping that she’ll have enough power to incapacitate him now that she’s better practiced.

But before anyone can say anything further, Stribog goes stock-still and starts to glow red. “No!” he shouts, and then he vanishes.

“I’m missing something,” Sharon says flatly.


	13. Pop-Up Pageant: When Did This Turn Into Beautiful World? (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians prepare to infiltrate a likely scheme.

“It is happening again,” Wanda announces flatly as she steps into Peggy and Steve’s apartment and drops a flyer on the coffee table.

“What’s that?” Steve asks with a curious frown. “Stribog isn’t back, is he?”

In the weeks since the Auxiliary Monarch’s mysterious disappearance, they’ve been blessedly monster-free (a blessing because, given the time of year, they’ve all had final exams and projects to complete; there simply hasn’t been _time_ for monsters), but since they don’t actually know what happened to him, they can only hope he’s out of the running. The cats have warned them not to get complacent - surely the Winter Kingdom will turn up more soldiers, likely the other Auxiliary Monarchs - but it’s been a well-deserved and well-appreciated break (even if it’s not much of a break since all of them are taking summer classes, Steve and Peggy in intensive third-year French, Sharon and Wanda in driver’s ed even though it’s not like they’ll be getting their own cars anytime soon).

Of course, the cats are always right.

“I don’t know who’s in charge this time but I have a very suspicious feeling about this,” Wanda says. “Don’t beauty pageants typically take months to prepare for? Wasn’t that part of why it was so absurd that they only had two days to put Sandra Bullock together for one?”

Peggy picks up the flyer and frowns over it. “I’ve never competed in a beauty pageant myself, but the idea of a ‘pop-up pageant’ does seem to be rather trivializing something that’s already potentially trivial,” she says thoughtfully. “Potentially, mind. I’m sure there are people in it for the right reasons.”

“You don’t need to justify it to us, we get it,” Sharon smirks.

“Yes, well, what I mean is - a beauty pageant with less than a week’s notice isn’t likely to rely on much more than beauty,” Peggy says. “Honestly, it being summer means it’s likely to be mostly a swimsuit competition.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah,” Sharon agrees. “Why d’you think it’s the Winter Kingdom, Wanda?”

Well, the flyer isn’t specific; the only proper name on it is Ilya Sokolov, which is keeping with the Soviet motif of the Winter Kingdom, but he’s just listed as a contact for questions, so unless they’ve figured out a way to siphon energy over phone lines (not entirely improbable) the flyer is just an advertisement, and not one that strikes any of the others as particularly suspicious.

“Well, in addition to what you observed earlier, Peggy,” Wanda begins, nodding politely as she flops into an easy chair, “it’s part logic and part instinct. I’ve seen plenty of odd things advertised in this city but this just seems… different. And I have a _feeling_ about it again. The flyer isn’t giving off magic, exactly, but it’s not entirely normal.”

“I believe you,” Sharon says. “It’s a really good thing you can sense this stuff, huh?”

Wanda blushes and shrugs self-effacingly. “I suppose,” she says. “It makes sense that someone on the team would have such an ability, given how often it needs to be used. Perhaps that’s why I was… called? Awakened? However you’d describe it, perhaps that’s why I joined the team when I did.”

“If we’re reincarnated space royalty here to do battle against mystical Nazis and Communists, I guess anything is possible,” Steve says gamely.

They all let that sink in for a minute before Peggy clears her throat and asks, “If this is, in fact, a Winter Kingdom conspiracy, you know what that means, don’t you?”

Wanda tilts her head, having a reasonable idea but not wanting to presume like a know-it-all, but Sharon gets a horrifie look on her face and shakes her head. “Oh, no,” she says. “No. I’m not entering a beauty pageant!”

“It’s not like you’d be going alone,” Peggy says. “We’d all be going in to do reconnaissance.”

“All the more reason for me to skip out!” Sharon counters. “We don’t all need to go in. I could scope the audience or something.”

“Steve’s going to be scoping the audience,” Peggy corrects. “Considering I’m fairly certain this pageant is only aimed at women, and likely cis women at that.”

“We’ll all be there,” Wanda adds, sounding small but hopeful. “Three heads are better than one, no?” Before she can think better of it she continues on, murmuring, “I’m sure you’ll look very nice in a bathing suit.”

“Not the point,” Sharon says, but off Wanda’s cringing she adds, “I do appreciate you saying so, though. But I’m not just worried about… I hate those things! All the silly questions and posturing and a bunch of dudes deciding what encapsulates female achievement. It’s fine for someone else, but not me.”

“Good thing this isn’t a proper pageant, then,” Peggy smirks. “It’ll be an afternoon of nonsense and probably not even one we’ll have to get all the way through before the fighting starts. But we all ought to be there, sticking together and helping as many people as we can.”

“I _guess_ ,” Sharon sighs. “I’m just not wild about it.”

“We have to do whatever we can to stop evil,” Steve says.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not going to be in a bikini,” Sharon points out.

 

* * *

 

The whole gimmick of this so-called “pop-up pageant” is that competitors have a week to register and prepare before the performance, which will in turn be partially judged by the randomly-assembled crowd. It’s also promising a reasonable prize set ($2000 for first place, $1000 for second, $500 for third) if the chances to potentially garner local fame, attention, and possibly more social media followers if the #popuppageant tag takes off weren’t enough. This week is mostly, for Peggy, Sharon, and Wanda, spent selecting outfits and deciding on allegedly marketable talents.

This is more difficult than it seems considering both Peggy and Sharon cite proficiency with firearms as one of their most prominent talents. Finally, though, Peggy draws further inspiration from _Miss Congeniality_ and puts together a basic kickboxing demonstration, Sharon calls on her childhood piano lessons and pulls out a short classical piece, and Wanda smirks ironically and prepares to do a series of tarot readings for random volunteers. (“There are times,” she says, “that it’s easy to fall back on stereotypes, and any time reliant on improvisation is one of them.”) They’re none of them show-stopping talents, but that’s not the point. They’re just there to investigate and put a halt to any suspicious activity.

Despite her reticence to participate, Sharon has the easiest time putting together her formal outfit, just using a gown and shoes from last fall’s homecoming dance; Peggy finds something suitable she last wore to a wedding. Wanda, however, is unused to formal events, which leads to the afternoon she spends at Sharon’s apartment, in Sharon’s bedroom, sitting on Sharon’s bed and frowning as Sharon sorts through her closet.

“I’m not sure how well this is going to work,” Wanda says doubtfully. “You’re taller than me, and I’m…” She glances down to her chest, which isn’t overly large by any means but is fuller than Sharon’s, then to her hips and thighs, which are just slightly curvier (though it’s known that in women’s clothing, minute discrepancies in measurement can make all the difference).

“I’m only a little taller than you,” Sharon shrugs. “You can just wear higher heels if you’re worried.”

“Said assuming I intend to wear high heels at all,” Wanda teases.

“Well, of course you do,” Sharon says. “Par for the course here, I didn’t make the rules.”

“Fine, fine,” Wanda laughs. “Show me the dresses you have in mind, then.”

Sharon reaches into her closet and pulls out a black dress, saying, “Normally I would say black is a little bit too drab for a beauty pageant, probably, but I’ve seen how you wear black. It’s a good look.”

“Really?” Wanda asks, genuinely surprised. “I always felt like I sort of just wore black by default. Everything matches it. Plus, as my brother says, I’m the alternative baby Goth from a 90s movie.”

“Pretty specific,” Sharon remarks.

Wanda shrugs. “What he doesn’t actually put words to I can still infer.”

“Fair enough,” Sharon says. “You want me to turn around or leave the room while you try it on?”

“Oh,” Wanda exclaims, blushing, “no, it’s - whatever you’d rather. I don’t mind. Because it’s just like gym class.” That’s not the reason she doesn’t mind, and she’s fairly sure that too can be inferred, but she doesn’t want to say anything.

Sharon watches her for a minute, but she doesn’t say anything about it either. Instead she takes the dress off of its hanger and nods for Wanda to stand and get into it. “C’mon, then,” she says. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Wanda clambers off the bed and very self-consciously starts to strip down to her underthings. It’s not at all like gym class, because in gym class there are thirty other girls in the locker room and none of them are staring. Or could be staring. Wanda’s not staring at Sharon to see if Sharon is staring at her. Once she’s down to bra, underwear, and her knee-high socks, she says, “Dress, please?”

Sharon unzips it and hands it over with an encouraging smile. “Careful, it’s delicate fabric.”

“It feels very pleasant, though,” Wanda observes, running her hands over the bodice before she steps into it. “Lightweight, very soft.” She shrugs. Sensory-motivated fabric preferences aren’t something a lot of people think about, she knows, so she doesn’t want to go on about them. Instead she wiggles the dress over her hips, then, blushing, glances over her shoulder to ask, “Could you zip me up?”

“Sure,” Sharon hums, stepping closer to do just that. Then, almost contemplatively, she slides her arms around Wanda’s waist, asking, “This okay?”

Wanda can feel her heart pounding, but she nods. “You are also soft,” she whispers. “Is that alright for me to say?” Not weird, she means.

“Yeah,” Sharon says, breath warm on Wanda’s exposed skin. “Hey, what about kissing? Would that be okay, too?”

“Yes,” Wanda says, eyes going wide. “Right now?”

“Yeah, right now,” Sharon says playfully, gently turning Wanda around to, in fact, kiss her.


	14. Pop-Up Pageant: When Did This Turn Into Beautiful World? (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pageant comes off and new characters join the fight.

They show up at the designated location (a nondescript hotel), they fill out the designated paperwork (Wanda doesn’t sense anything particular from it, so they know that’s not the means of transmission), they take their places (the large dressing room for contestants for the girls, the audience for Steve).

“Here’s hoping the demon shows up before the swimsuit round,” Sharon snarks to Wanda.

Wanda just giggles nervously and squeezes Sharon’s hand.

“Are you getting any feelings yet?” Peggy asks Wanda softly as they take their places at the dressing tables, carefully set their (cat-carrying) purses down, and begin to get dressed and prepared for the opening number (which, given the pop-up and therefore unrehearsed nature of the pageant, is really just going to be the contestants wearing their nice dresses and parading out as their names are announced).

Wanda glances around the room - there’s a good couple dozen other contestants - and seems about to respond in the negative when a new girl enters. She’s not particularly tall - likely shorter than any of the three of them, if not for her high heels - but there’s something commanding about her, some sort of unusual air; she’s got short, curly red hair and a dancer’s gait, wears a cropped leather jacket that looks too warm for this weather, and carries a duffel bag with the name of a local ballet studio emblazoned on the side.

“Who is  _ that _ ?” Wanda asks in a low, awed whisper.

“Oh, that’s Natasha,” Sharon says, sounding sort of surprised. “She goes to my school. Well, when she shows up, anyway.” She shrugs slightly. “Or when she’s not suspended.”

Peggy frowns. “Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, one or the other,” Sharon says. “She’s got a reputation. Ditches a lot, gets in fights.”

Wanda squirms uncomfortably. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” she says, sounding and feeling defensive for reasons she can’t place. “I have ditched. I have gotten in fights. I probably have something of a reputation myself, among my classmates.”

Sharon lays a hand on Wanda’s shoulder reassuringly. “Yeah, but no matter how weird you are you aren’t a  _ troublemaker _ ,” she says, making sure to imply in her tone that it, weird that is, is meant fondly. “It’s different. Natasha Romanov is scary.”

“She’s certainly something,” Wanda agrees hesitantly. “I don’t know what  _ kind  _ of something, but…”

There’s a scrabbling inside Peggy’s bag, some buzzing, before Sharon’s and Wanda’s phones go off. 

_ >>Dokt mean t recital ly profile but as we she s knt winery long Kingston _

All of them blink at the message, trying to decipher it. It’s from Peggy’s own phone number, which means it could really only be from Edwin, and knowing that makes the typos understandable (dark bag making it difficult to see what he’s doing, cat paws making it difficult to land on all of the correct buttons).

“Winter Kingdom,” Peggy murmurs, dropping her voice. “And… recitally?”

“Racially,” Wanda says, her tone flat. “Although in this case it would be more ethnic profiling than racial. I presume since Natasha is Russian?”

>> _ USC _

And then, a second later:

_ >>Yes _

Wanda frowns. “Should I remind you that I…?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Sharon consoles. “It’s just, she’s intimidating, you’ve got a weird feeling about her, we’re not sure who our next Auxiliary Monarch or whoever is and she kinda fits the trend.”

“Besides, you’re not Russian, strictly speaking, right?” Peggy adds.

“I’m not sure that’s my point,” Wanda says. “It just doesn’t feel right. Besides, why would the next Auxiliary Monarch be participating in the beauty pageant? And aren’t we looking for Ilya Sokolov, sort of?”

“Sort of, yes,” Peggy echoes. “I suppose we can keep an eye out for him, or whoever else the Winter Kingdom has sent, while we also keep an eye on this Natasha. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” Sharon and Wanda repeat, sounding varyingly doubtful.

As it turns out, it’s easy to find Ilya Sokolov: in addition to being the presumed organizer of the pageant, he’s the host and announcer, grandly gesturing to each of the girls as they make their way downstage and strike a pose showily. (The judges, Sharon notes, are all men, as is a majority of the audience. Go figure, right?) When all is said and done, there are thirty-three contestants, Wanda and Sharon on the younger end of the spectrum and Peggy on the older. Natasha, it turns out, is just a year older than Wanda and Sharon, though she carries herself in such a way that she seems older, more mature, and when she parades down to the front and Ilya asks her why she came to the pageant today she plasters on a big, insincere smile and announces, “Because the child services people love having proof that I’m a well-adjusted, normal girl.”

Not the answer any of them were expecting, but as they’re all onstage at the moment they can’t very well communicate this. Wanda thinks, a little smugly, that that’s a more elaborate and potentially tragic backstory than an Auxiliary Monarch would bother inventing.

The introductory portion of the pageant goes off without a hitch, which means that the next is swimsuits. “Guess we just couldn’t have gotten attacked before this,” Sharon mutters as she’s changing.

“That would have been too easy,” Wanda remarks wryly.

“Do you have any impressions of our host so far?” Peggy asks.

“He’s a man whose intentions likely aren’t good,” Wanda says. “I don’t think we can base our decision off of that alone, considering how many men whose intentions likely aren’t good exist.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Sharon laughs.

Wanda hums thoughtfully, but her gaze drifts across the dressing room to where Natasha stands reapplying her lipstick. She’s still got a feeling, but she’s more certain than ever that it’s not the feeling that Edwin suggested she might have. It’s not at all the suspicion she’s gotten from seeing Josef Zephyr on the website, or from the flyer. It’s something different, something new.

(But it can’t be…  _ that _ , not when she and Sharon…)

When they’re all on their way back to the stage, Natasha slows her pace so as to catch up with Wanda. “Do I have something in my teeth?” she asks, quiet but pointed.

“No,” Wanda squeaks.

“Then why the staredown?” Natasha asks.

“You, you reminded me of someone I thought I knew,” Wanda stammers. It’s an obvious excuse, but they’re being herded onstage, so Natasha doesn’t press.

“And now, for our swimsuit competition!” Ilya announces as a thudding club beat starts to play. “Where our beautiful contestants show off, we show them how much we appreciate them,  _ and our great leader appreciates the outpouring of energy brought about by this shameless show of foolish mortal vanity! _ ”

The contestants not in the know (most of them) start screaming as the three judges stand and instantly morph into vaguely sexy quasi-male humanoid weasel hybrids. Two of them turn to start zapping energy from the gathered audience, causing the spectators (again, many of them men) to double over groaning in pain as their bodies go staticky; the third begins to attack the contestants one after another, seemingly oblivious to the way that Peggy, Sharon, and Wanda run backstage to transform.

Except when it gets to Natasha, she doesn’t just freeze and crumple like the others. She wails, but she doesn’t fall. Her eyes just start to glow a slightly orangeish red, and the other three notice this as soon as they come out of their transformations, turning to each other in awe.

“Oh my god!” Sharon exclaims. “Does that mean Natasha’s…?”

“Yes!” exclaims Edwin, who’s fortuitously run up beside them with Ana following right after. “She’s a Sailor Guardian just like you. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before!”

“You were inside Peggy’s purse, you didn’t exactly have a chance to give her a thorough looking-over,” Ana remarks. She turns her now-customary backflip to produce a transformation pen and then pushes it across the stage to land at Natasha’s feet, shouting, “Pick it up and shout ‘Carnelian Power’!”

Natasha blinks, jarred enough by the pen making contact that she manages to break the hold the demon has on her. All of this is strange enough that she doesn’t actually think twice before she shouts, “Carnelian Power!” and goes transformation-still.

“Oh,  _ interesting _ ,” exclaims Ilya, sounding like he practiced in order to come off so sardonic.

Natasha comes to, transformed - her skirt and collar are the red color of her jewel, as are the pointe shoes with ribbons laced up nearly to her knees, and her bows are a light, bright blue that matches the unusual plastic-looking bracelets over top of her elbow-length fingerless black gloves - and seemingly without knowing what she’s doing she strikes a pose. “How dare you make this ridiculous day downright sinister?” she exclaims.

Peggy, Sharon, and Wanda run up and adopt complementary poses, nodding approval. “Beauty pageants aren’t for everyone, but they’re fun for some people and usually harmless unless a monster like you gets in the way,” Peggy adds. “Guided by the natural rhythms of life, I will punish you!”

“Ha!” shouts the man who’s definitely not Ilya Sokolov. “Foolish children. You may have bested Stribog, caused him to be recalled in shame by our great leader, but I am not as weak as he. I am Kresnik, the second Auxiliary Monarch of the Winter Kingdom, and my demons are stronger and my values nobler.”

“Talismanul Purificator!” Wanda shouts, flinging incapacitating paper charms at the weasel men attacking the audience members.

“Lovely Bolt!” Sharon shouts, blasting pink light at the weasel man attacking the contestants.

“My demons can withstand you ninnies,” Kresnik repeats, laughing as he disappears in a cloud of rose petals and smoke. 

Sure enough, the demon working alone has started to advance on the gathered Sailor Guardians, and Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Okay, talking cats, help me out of this one,” she deadpans.

“This time, shout ‘Eloquent Illusion Zap,’” Ana suggests. “That should ward it off.”

“Eloquent Illusion Zap!” Natasha shouts obligingly, performing a jeté as electric energy crackles from her bracelets and aims at the demon.

The other demons begin to advance as well, fighting off the effects of Wanda’s charms, and after watching them move for a moment Edwin exclaims, “If you kill the one in the middle they’ll all disappear! They’re operating as one, with only minor variants.”

“On it,” Peggy calls, producing her Aspiration Dream Wand and shouting, “Translucent Meditation!”

Within moments, the demons are vanished, the audience and contestants are starting to come to, and the Guardians are looking at each other with satisfaction. Mostly.

“Do explain,” Natasha drawls.


	15. Blossoming Friendship: Another Shift In The Team Dynamic (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon and Wanda get to know their new teammate Natasha.

“So,” Natasha begins as she, Sharon, and Wanda head for the coffee shop where Sharon’s arranged to meet her father’s driver. “This is just… how it is now, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Sharon shrugs.

“And you never thought to just walk away?” Natasha asks, her tone less a challenge than a hint at some unexplained background motivation.

Sharon and Wanda glance at each other, genuinely puzzled. “How could we?” Wanda asks. “This is who we are. Now that we know - now that _I_ know, I could no sooner abandon it than I could my own brother.”

“I’m guessing that means it’s important,” Natasha quips. It’s quickly becoming clear that until she’s more comfortable with the situation and company, light sarcasm is going to be her defense and default. After a short pause for emphasis, she turns to Sharon to ask, “Her brother’s important, right?”

“More important than anything,” Sharon agrees seriously. “They’re twins. They’re everything each other has in the world.”

Natasha nods, her expression possibly reflecting envy for a moment before she turns it more neutral. “Got it,” she says. “Funny the great cosmic destiny skipped him over. It did, didn’t it?”

Wanda shrugs. “As far as I know,” she says. “It’s not unusual. I have always had precognitive abilities that he hasn’t.”

“Precognitive as in psychic,” Natasha clarifies.

“Primarily,” Wanda says.

“And he doesn’t do anything special like that,” Natasha presses.

“He can run very fast,” Wanda declares. It’s deadpan enough that it sounds like she’s being snarky too, but it’s not actually insincere so much as just her way of delivering facts.

“Ah,” Natasha nods. “And I’ve never seen either of you around because…”

“We don’t attend the same school as you,” Wanda says. “To be fair, that’s true of most teenagers in New York City.”

“But I know this one,” Natasha counters, nodding at Sharon with a smirk. “Because she _does_.”

Sharon shrugs sheepishly. “I kind of didn’t realize you knew who I was,” she admits.

“Why would you think that?” Natasha asks, almost teasing.

“We’re not in the same grade,” Sharon begins. “You don’t really strike me as someone who pays attention to anyone who’s not… well, to anyone.”

“I don’t pay attention to just _anyone_ ,” Natasha agrees wryly. “But you’re something of an anomaly, princess. Even the loner weirdos hear stories about school celebrities.”

“I didn’t realize you were a celebrity,” Wanda remarks, nudging Sharon playfully.

“I’m on student government,” Sharon says. “ _I_ didn’t realize that qualified me as a celebrity.”

Natasha shrugs. “Wouldn’t if you didn’t try to use your power for good,” she says, with an unreadable but certain note in her voice. “Aside from the convoluted and mystical past-life family stuff, though, I don’t know much about where you come from.”

“There’s not much to know,” Sharon says. “You could probably guess, from the private driver who should be pulling around that corner at any moment, that I’m kind of a spoiled little rich girl. Who tries really hard not to be too spoiled.”

“Hence the using powers for good, I take it,” Natasha suggests, leaning casually against the little half-a-fence separating the outdoor tables from the rest of the sidewalk.

“Something like that,” Sharon agrees.

There’s a slight lull in the conversation, then, and Wanda mostly uses the time to assess their new teammate. (New friend?) She’s got a very _easy_ way about her, insofar as she seems comfortable with anyone. Now that they’re all on the same level, officially, she’s casual and chatty; this is different from Wanda herself (who knows she tends anxious in social situations, going quiet or saying too much too fast about things that nobody cares about) and also from Sharon (who isn’t spoiled, but does carry herself like someone with enough inherited social position that she’s used to thinking about how she carries herself). She’s also, despite being friendly, not the same kind of friendly as Steve and Peggy, who are quick to open themselves up as needed. Natasha is reticent. Natasha seems like she’s hiding something.

The towncar pulls up and Sharon beckons the other girls forward. Once they’re settled in the backseat (Sharon’s hand wrapped loosely around Wanda’s, much to Wanda’s surprise and delight) and they’re on their way, Sharon asks Natasha, “So, where can we drop you off?”

“This is a sneaky way of asking where I live,” Natasha remarks wryly.

“You could make something up and get on the subway,” Wanda points out.

“But then I’d be stuck on the subway for god knows how long,” Natasha counters.

“We’re going to find out where you live eventually,” Sharon says. “Teammates, etcetera. Besides, if we go to the same school we must live _sort_ of near each other.”

“Your neighborhood?” Natasha asks Sharon.

“I’m the Upper East Side,” Sharon says.

“What about you?” Natasha asks Wanda, clearly diverting the attention from her own home’s location.

“I live in the Bronx, but I’m going back to Sharon’s to stay the night tonight,” Wanda says. She’s reveling in being able to say that and knowing that it’s not just for an awkward, innocent sleepover that someone invited her to because their parents made them; it’s not going to get particularly steamy, considering they’re both, well, fifteen, plus they’re still testing out what this dating thing means to them, but it’s still exciting.

Sharon nods, squeezing Wanda’s hand. “Actually,” she says, “would it be okay if Natasha…”

Clearly, she means to invite Natasha to the sleepover as well. Wanda has a flash of annoyance - they can’t very well kiss with someone else in the room - but then she brushes it off. A team sleepover sounds pleasant, too, just in a different way.

“If she wanted to, I’d be alright with it,” Wanda remarks.

“What do you think?” Sharon asks Natasha, grinning.

“You’re serious,” Natasha says. “You’re actually suggesting we have a slumber party.”

“Damn straight.”

 

* * *

 

It’s one of the times when Sharon’s mother is actually home, so when the girls get to the apartment there’s a few minutes of introductions (“yeah, Natasha and I go to school together and we just happened to run into each other” - none of it untrue) before they hit their first roadblock, or rather Natasha does.

“Honey, do you need to call your parents?” Mrs. Carter asks. “Let them know where you are?” She knows Wanda’s always in the clear to stay over, thanks in large part to her nontraditional and technically parentless living situation (though said living situation is more than a little confusing to her), but she doesn’t know about Natasha.

And Natasha clearly didn’t want to tell straightaway, given the way her gaze wanders as she says, “I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

Sharon and Wanda look at each other in a mild panic, both suddenly remembering the earlier offhand remark about child services, but Mrs. Carter misses any of that subtext. “Oh, are you, you know,” she begins before dropping her voice, “running away?” In her experience it’s not entirely uncommon, after all, for friends of Sharon’s to turn up in fits of annoyance and anger at their parents, declaring they need to get out of their house or they’ll just _die_ \- typical teenage melodramatic behavior.

But that explanation - which Natasha can infer from the tone in Mrs. Carter’s voice, like she doesn’t take it seriously and might very well try to call behind the girls' backs but she’ll play along because she’s a _cool mom_ \- is not only incorrect but far too whimsical, so Natasha just snorts and says, “Nah, Nick’s one of the only foster dads I’ve had that I didn’t want to run out on immediately.” She’d rather spill that secret than get talked down to like she’s some pretentious rich kid.

Sharon and Wanda both nod, feeling some details come clear, and Mrs. Carter decides she’s not going to put her foot in her mouth. “Well, if you need to call, ah, Nick, I’m sure you can manage,” she says instead of asking any of the questions she obviously has. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, Sharon.”

They don’t really talk until they’re in Sharon’s room with the door shut, Sharon and Wanda both sitting on the bed and Natasha stretching out lazily in the desk chair, and Natasha’s the one to start it this time, feeling it better to head things off at the pass. “Surprise,” she says, trying to at least tone down her sarcasm as she continues. “Stereotypical loner weirdo comes from a broken family.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sharon murmurs, worried that she’s somehow caused offense.

“People usually don’t,” Natasha sighs, calculatedly casual. “But when most of them hear I’ve bounced from family to group home to family to group home, it clears things up for them.”

Wanda frowns, leaning forward with one hand on her knee. “If people make you feel ashamed of this, I’ll scream at them,” she says solemnly. “Whether or not you have a stable home with biological family is not their business, nor is it something to criticize you for.”

“Thanks, I think,” Natasha says, but this is the first smile she’s given that’s not at all sarcastic. “In my case it’s a little more complicated, but I appreciate your sentiment.”

 


	16. Blossoming Friendship: Another Shift In The Team Dynamic (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed and battles are (once again) fought.

Natasha is idling around the International High campus - or more specifically, the park adjacent to it - waiting for Sharon and Wanda to leave their driver’s ed class. She’s also glaring at anyone she recognizes, daring them to challenge why the known rebel is hovering around the high school during the middle of summer. (She’s both glad and mildly annoyed to notice that nobody really seems to care. Her reputation is ridiculous, but it’s a kind of armor, too.)

The truth is, she’s actually _socializing._ The other two members of her apparent new superhero team may be younger than she is, but only by a little, and after their initial suspicion (Sharon’s initial suspicion) they seem not to really care about what other people say about her behind her back. Or to her face. Nick seemed glad to hear she’d made a couple of friends (he didn’t ask for too many details, but she’s actually going out to meet specific people and not ones that she clearly made up, so it’s progress) and she wouldn’t admit it to him or anyone else but she’s pretty glad too. It’s been lonely around the Fury place since Clint went off to college: it’s not that there aren’t other kids around, but right now most of them are younger, too high-pitched and hopeful, too transient and temporary. They’re little enough that they could still get adopted, chosen by a permanent family, whereas she’s old enough (sixteen - so old, ugh) that she probably won’t find a more official permanent home. And honestly, Nick’s is her permanent home. Neither of them are ever going to acknowledge it, but he’s used to having her around and she’s used to being around. She likes the freedom, the fact that he lets her come and go and have her own space, and she used to like having Clint around too, but he aged out of the system and now it’s just her, by herself.

Yes, she’s gladder of Sharon and Wanda than she knows how to express.

She’s busy enough waiting for them, one eye on the school’s front doors and the other on her phone, that she doesn’t notice Steve and Peggy approaching from the subway. “Hey,” Steve calls out, sounding remarkably cheerful.

Natasha blinks and turns to wave. “Uh, hey,” she says.

“Guess they’re not done yet,” Steve chuckles, coming to sit at the table Natasha’s sitting on top of.

“Guess not,” Natasha echoes. “It’s not… quite three yet, so.”

Peggy smirks and sits as well, one leg folded over the other. “Astute,” she says wryly. “How are you, Natasha?”

“Oh, I’m okay,” Natasha says. “Stayed over at Sharon’s place last night. Her mom is chipper.”

“I can imagine,” Peggy says. “Good chipper?”

“Chipper chipper,” Natasha deadpans. “It’s nothing I’m used to.” She shrugs, pauses, and after a dramatic pause she adds, “My foster dad’s not exactly an enthusiastic type.” She figures she should make sure everyone’s on the same page, and since Sharon and Wanda already heard her secret, she might as well share. She braces herself for the inevitable pity.

To their credit, Steve and Peggy don’t say anything. Or make any sympathetic noises. They’re probably looking at each other knowingly (she’s not looking, and they’re sitting in front of her so she can’t see their faces) but they don’t say anything. So that’s something.

“Do you have your license yet?” Steve asks Natasha.

“You mean why am I not in driver’s ed,” Natasha supplies.

Peggy rolls her eyes fondly, turning to nod at Natasha. “He doesn’t mean it accusingly,” she says. “I’m guessing he’s trying to make conversation and slightly failing.”

Natasha chuckles. “I didn’t take it that way,” she assures.

“I just meant because you’re sixteen,” Steve says. “Though I guess if you grew up in the city you might not drive yet, I don’t know.” He shrugs self-effacingly. “I didn’t learn till I was about eighteen, so.”

“I’m guessing that means you grew up around here,” Natasha says. “That’s how we’re making conversation, I guess?”

“We’ll take turns sharing, sure,” Steve agrees. “I grew up in Brooklyn, yeah. What about you?”

Natasha blinks. Sharing is still pretty new to her, but hell, if these people are her cosmic soul buddies from another time and space, she probably can’t get away with being cagey. “Volgograd by way of DC by way of Atlantic City, actually,” she says. “Circa Murray Hill since the tender age of fourteen.”

Steve and Peggy exchange those unexplained looks again. “I’d never have guessed,” Steve says. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just mean - you don’t have an accent.”

“Haven’t lived in Russia since I was a kid,” Natasha says, shrugging. “Trained myself out of it, I guess.”

Of course, Sharon and Wanda come wandering out of the building just as this subject is being discussed, and Wanda announces their presence by drawling, “I suppose Americanizing would make things easier. I just never got around to it.”

Natasha smirks. “Hey, to each their own,” she says. “I guess maybe if I’d grown up around other people who still had accents, or had them to begin with, I might be in a different situation.” Off of everyone’s expectant glances (these people are really not the types to let backstory stay _back_ , are they?) she adds, “I don’t know my parents. Never did. It’s been fosters and court-appointed guardians the whole way through.”

“I’m sorry,” Sharon says, because she’s the one to do that. “I mean, you seem like you’re okay with it but… still, just in case.”

Ah. The sympathy. Natasha’s least favorite thing, but weirdly she doesn’t mind it coming from Sharon, because Sharon isn’t condescending about it. She’s genuinely so sheltered and sweet that she actually just feels bad that Natasha might have experienced some misfortune.

“I’ve figured it out,” Natasha says, shrugging, and she looks like she might continue when she’s interrupted by a shrill scream coming from inside the school building.

“I hope to hell that Pietro’s already run off,” Wanda sighs before they all turn and run toward the disaster.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, Pietro has in fact already left the building (he too is in driver’s ed, and most days he’s been bidding Wanda farewell and going across the street to the gym with a very reasonable student membership rate; while it would make a strange sort of sense for today to be the exception to that rule, they’re all especially relieved that they don’t have to skirt around that particular issue in the middle of fighting); unluckily, the driver’s ed teacher and the couple of students signed up to take the practice car out this afternoon have not, and they’re currently being held hostage by a humanoid nerpa monster.

“Those never stop seeming ridiculous, do they?” Natasha whispers to Sharon.

“Nope,” Sharon whispers back.

“Driver’s education is a crucial part of the lives of students!” Peggy - who of course is transformed by now, they all are - shouts, striking a pose. “Learning how to operate a vehicle gives young people a new lease on life and a new freedom that they may not have had before, and anyone who stands in the way of this is truly demented! Guided by the natural rhythms of life, I will punish you!”

“Foolish girls,” the nerpa says. This one, they all note, has the added special trait of sounding like its voice has been put through a distortion box - because, you know, that’s just an extra level of fun. “Foolish boy. You put yourselves through harm, just to save a few paltry humans, but you give no thought to the greater good. You think so much about the few that you disregard the many.”

“The many you mention is wrong, though,” Steve says, defiantly optimistic. “You mean the powers you serve, their dark energy and its perpetuation. We work to save a few humans today so that we protect _all_ humans tomorrow.”

“You work to save a doomed species,” the demon scoffs.

“Tangible Truth Evocation!” Wanda shouts, lunging forward to attack.

She and the monster scrap for a few minutes while Natasha and Steve go to tend to the prospective victims - weakened by the initial attack, but more stunned than truly zapped of their energy. Sharon and Peggy stay back, conferring with each other.

“Every one of these monsters seems to be more and more sure of its goal,” Peggy observes, frowning.

“Even though the goal is just ‘use humans as batteries for their bigot space octopus,’” Sharon adds.

“A hydra is different from an octopus, technically,” Peggy can’t help but correct.

“You’ve seen their stupid gang paraphernalia, though,” Sharon counters. “ _They_ sure as hell don’t know that one’s not the same as the other.”

“Fair point,” Peggy remarks.

“Eloquent Illusion Zap!” Natasha shouts, attacking the demon when it gets closer to her, Steve, and the innocent randoms.

“She’s doing very well, though,” Peggy continues, nodding in their new Sailor Carnelian’s direction. “Adapting to the strangeness, and all.”

“I get the feeling that’s kind of what she does,” Sharon says. “I think it’s your time to finish it off, Sailor Moonstone.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Peggy chuckles, getting into position.

 


	17. Animal Magnetism: A New Low In Winter Kingdom Manipulation (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda invites the others to join her for a day at the zoo.

“Thank you for getting us these tickets, Wanda,” Steve says as they wait in line at the Bronx Zoo. “I haven’t been to the zoo, any zoo, since I was practically a kid. This will be fun.”

Wanda smiles sheepishly. “I suppose it is an advantage of being the child somewhat raised by a metaphorical village,” she says, and they all know she’s referring to the synagogue that she and Pietro attend. “Mrs. Pryde is on the board of directors here, you see, and so her daughter held her birthdays here while we were growing up. She realized very quickly that I was one of the only children truly interested in the animals, so she’s always been very generous about providing tickets for me. Pietro usually comes, but he always gets impatient. He wishes he could run with the animals, not just watch them sleep.”

Peggy chuckles. “I’m sure if anyone could keep up, it would be him,” she says politely. “But far as I’m concerned, you go to the zoo for the possibility of seeing animals do things, not because you’ve been guaranteed it.”

“I tend to agree,” Wanda says. “But my brother is… my brother. He would have the world in constant motion if he could.”

“I kinda like when you come on some big animal taking a nap,” Steve says. “It’s easier to draw them, and it’s always nice knowing they’re relaxed.” He is, in fact, carrying a sketchbook in the very likely case of such a thing happening.

“Softie,” Peggy teases.

They wander through the entry gate, all privately glad they don’t have to worry about smuggling their own cats around today (neither Edwin or Ana has ever been to a zoo, which is of course true of most domesticated cats, and neither particularly wanted to come today) and feeling remarkably relaxed, and when they stop just inside to apply sunscreen Sharon asks Wanda, “You’re a cat person, right?”

“Yes,” Wanda says, grinning eagerly. “There are several big cat exhibits here, lions and snow leopards and tigers, and you’ll usually see at least one of them out doing its thing. There are also fossas, which aren’t exactly cats, nor are they particularly big, but -” She breaks off, chuckling. “Please tell me to stop if I’m getting annoying.”

“I think it’s cute,” Sharon says, squeezing Wanda’s hand.

“Sap,” Natasha jokes, playfully rolling her eyes.

“Jealous?” Sharon retorts cheerfully. This seems to surprise Natasha, because she just raises her eyebrows at Sharon silently. Everyone thinks better of analyzing this, out loud or otherwise, but the thought that there might be something to analyze crosses their minds nonetheless.

“It’s a really nice day for this,” Steve says, obviously changing the subject. “Not too hot out.”

“Small mercies,” Peggy agrees. “Where should we go first? What do you recommend, Wanda?”

Wanda beams, clearly pleased to be the expert today. She seems genuinely happy here, without any of her usual underlying apprehension or combativeness. “Well,” she says, “we came in closest to the World of Birds, which is always worth walking through. It’s never been my most favorite exhibit, but it’s very interesting, and it’s on the way to everything else.”

“That sounds pleasant,” Peggy agrees. “Do lead on, dear.”

Wanda nods and starts to head in that direction, one hand in Sharon’s. It’s a weekday, which means the crowds aren’t extreme, but then again it’s the summer, which means there are plenty of visitors present, most of them families including small (and often loud) children.

“Don’t envy them,” Natasha - currently at the back of the group - mutters, glancing at and then away from a couple pushing a triple stroller.

“Not a babies person?” Steve asks her, not judgmentally so much as genuinely curious.

Natasha shrugs. She’s always kind of assumed her propensity for leather and getting in fights made that obvious, but Steve is the type who doesn’t seem to want to assume anything. “Not a three babies at once person,” she says instead, not wanting to offend him in case he happens to be the opposite. “In a public place or otherwise. That seems like a recipe for constant headaches.”

“I’m sure it can be strenuous,” he agrees gamely. “But I’m sure it has benefits, too.” He smiles sheepishly. “I think I’ve always been interested in big families because it’s the opposite of how I grew up.”

“Yeah?” Natasha asks, surprising herself by actually being interested. “Wouldn’t have guessed. You seem like a big family kind of guy.”

“Nah,” Steve says. “Been on my own since I was in junior high. I’m an only child, and my dad was killed in action and my mom got sick pretty soon after.”

“Huh.” Natasha blinks. “You do time in the system?” If he did, she knows she won’t need to clarify which system she means.

“Some,” Steve agrees.

“And you didn’t mention it before because…?”

Here, he shrugs. “Didn’t want to sound like I was trying to one-up you or something,” he says. “I’m betting you know those people, the ones who have to match every story you tell about your life or top it.”

“Yeah,” Natasha chuckles. “The ones who want to prove they really know what you’re going through. I’ve dealt with a few of those. Occasionally with fists.”

“Hey,” Sharon calls, turning back to face them. “We’re heading into the exhibit, you slowpokes coming?”

Natasha and Steve glance at each other and find they’re both smirking. “No need to hurry,” he says, but they do pick up their pace to follow the other three into the World of Birds.

 

* * *

 

They walk through the birds, stopping to admire bali mynahs and great blue turacos and white-throated bee eaters, then over to the bears. The brown bears that can be seen are mostly just sleeping, but a few of the polar bears entertain their guests by frolicking around with a bucket, then rolling around.on the ground with each other. “They’re even snuggling,” Sharon coos, nodding to a couple of the cubs down in one corner of their enclosure.

“Sweet,” Peggy hums, leaning against Steve affectionately.

“It’s always nice when the animals are tender with each other,” Wanda agrees, and she rests her head against Sharon’s for a moment.

Natasha blinks. She’s not used to caring about feeling like the - in this case - fifth wheel, but she does. That’s strange. Even when the couples move back just a bit so they can sit and Steve can sketch some of the more sedentary polar bears, the feeling lingers.

_What the hell, Natasha._

“I’m glad that you’re all enjoying yourselves, too,” Wanda adds shyly, after a minute of watching the others watch the animals (and, honestly, each other as well). “I know this isn’t exactly the hippest way to spend your summer vacation.”

“I think it’s great,” Steve says sincerely, setting his pencil down for a minute. “Besides, you’re clearly passionate about this place, and it means a lot that you want to share it with us.”

“Thank you,” Wanda says, sounding surprised. “I suppose it is one of my favorite places. Animals are comforting, they’re straightforward, and I think it’s important to learn about them and appreciate them, to try to protect them.” She pauses, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “It also means a lot that you’re all willing to try to understand that.”

“Of course,” Sharon says immediately, nudging Wanda’s shoulder. “We wanna do that whenever we can, and not just about the zoo. I wanna do that.”

“Thank you,” Wanda repeats more softly. “I appreciate it.”

“Are they always this sentimental?” Natasha asks, because being fondly snarky is easier than addressing her actual, more confusing feelings on the matter.

“They’re in the honeymoon stage,” Peggy smirks. “And I’m not one to talk about _that_ , you’ve seen Angie and I together.”

“Hey, you and Steve aren’t exactly flatlining, either,” Natasha remarks.

After this, they stop at one of the food stands for ice cream. “Truly the healthiest lunch,” Peggy remarks wryly.

“Hey, it’s summer, we’re allowed,” Natasha jokes. “We can walk it off after.”

“We can,” Steve agrees cheerfully. “The snow leopards are in the Himalaya exhibit, right?”

“Right,” Wanda says. “Snow leopards and red pandas. Which - if you’ve never seen them - look less like traditional pandas and more like teddy bear/fox hybrids.”

“Well, that sounds nonsensical and adorable,” Sharon remarks.

A scream breaks out from the direction of the just-mentioned exhibit, accompanied by the kind of dramatic scare chord they’re used to. “Shit,” Natasha hisses.

“Transform?” Steve murmurs.

“Transform,” Peggy agrees.


	18. Animal Magnetism: A New Low in Winter Kingdom Manipulation (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sailor Guardians battle a demon in a new environment and learn a little more about their enemy.

“Visiting the zoo is a favorite pastime of young and old alike!” Peggy shouts as they, all transformed, run toward the Himalaya exhibit through the quickly-dispersing crowd. “Ruining that wholesome educational fun is something that only a real villain would consider!”

“P - ah, Sailor Moonstone,” Natasha murmurs insistently, “who are you addressing?”

“The demon?” Peggy shrugs.

“I don’t see a demon,” Natasha says.

It’s true - there are no humanoid lynxes or ocelots or seals anywhere to be found, and for a second the Sailor Guardians are all stunned silent. Then they hear a faint whimper from the immediate direction of the viewing window into the snow leopard exhibit, where a group of three small children stand transfixed by the animals in question, or more specifically one snow leopard in particular: it slinks closer to the children, staring them down intently with eyes that begin to glow yellow as it rises on its back legs and puts its front paws up to the glass.

“No!” Wanda shrieks, running toward this display.

After exchanging a brief, frenzied look with Peggy, Steve follows her and swoops the children out of the way. Their parents are easy enough to find and grateful, if confused, but he doesn’t spend much time worrying over that one way or another because his attention turns back to the battle.

“How _dare_ you take the form of such a noble, innocent creature to lure other innocents in for your evil purposes!” Wanda shouts, staring down the snow leopard monster. “For all you know, your mental manipulation may have ruined going to the zoo for these young people, to say nothing of the harm you’ve caused by beginning to drain their energy! I simply _cannot_ allow that! Talismanul Purificator!” She winds up to throw a paper charm at the glass, making contact with the spot that the snow leopard’s paw is touching. She’s not actually sure it will work with the glass in the way, but she’d rather not break the zoo enclosure unless she absolutely has to.

Luckily, reverberations from the charm pass through the glass and stun the snow leopard demon, if not the usual amount; Steve reaches out to yank Wanda back into formation with the others, frowning, and they all watch the snow leopard transform into an allegedly sexually appealing anthropomorphized snow leopard lady, sporting a human mouth and eyes but snow leopard nose and ears, human legs and arms but a snow leopard tail.

One of the other people in the crowd watching shrieks.

“Everybody, get out of here!” Natasha shouts. “ _Now_!”

They don’t need to be told twice (really more like a third time) and all of the gathered visitors run off, quick as they can; a few of them murmur about getting some sort of refund or complimentary favor from the zoo for their troubles and the Sailor Guardians have to work not to roll their eyes (really, they almost _died_ , but it wasn’t the zoo’s fault and they should really sort out their priorities).

“Come out and face us!” Peggy howls, staring at the snow leopard demon in a challenge.

It’s also a sign of skewed priorities that Wanda silently gives thanks that the demon jumps out of the enclosure, going high into the sky before plummeting to the pavement before the Sailor Guardians, instead of breaking the glass. She doesn’t say it, though, so it’s probably all right

“Only scoundrels take pleasure from impersonating and harming endangered animals!” Steve declares, twirling his cane in what he thinks is a menacing way. (Nobody has the heart to tell him it’s more theatrical than menacing, but then they figure that the Winter Kingdom is so utilitarian that theatrical might in fact actually be menacing to them in its way.)

“Foolish human,” the demon snarls, affecting a cynical smile.

And before any of the Sailor Guardians can respond, Kresnik materializes from the sky and matches that smirk. “None of the beasts you take pride in conserving have been affected,” he says. “They have the wrong kind of energy to feed to our great leader and are therefore useless to us. We are simply aware that humans have a weakness for…” He sniffs. “Furry things and knew that this would be a place many humans with valuable energy would visit.”

“You’re so _arrogant_ ,” Wanda exclaims, sounding genuinely exasperated. “Every animal on this earth contributes in its own way! A world full only of humans would lack an unquantifiable amount of beauty and the environment would be irreparably affected.”

“Beauty is a lie,” Kresnik scoffs, waving a hand dismissively.

“Says the royalty wearing the same drab jumpsuit as his predecessor,” Sharon jokes, rolling her eyes.

“What I wear is unimportant,” Kresnik says. “What is important is the energy I gather and the work I do in service of our great leader.”

Since there’s no crowd gathered, no civilians in immediate danger, Peggy decides to take this time to pause with one hand on her hip and ask, “Yes, who exactly _is_ this great leader you’re so keen on?” They have the barebones information from Edwin and Ana, of course, but she’s suddenly aware that it might be more valuable to get the story - or what of it he’ll give - from the source.

Kresnik seems to blanch, as if this is forbidden territory, but he’s a villain, he can’t resist the chance to explain things. It’s possible, taking into consideration his increasingly joyful expression, that he thinks he might be able to perform some sort of religious conversion on them, that he might be able to evangelize to them enough that they see his truth. “Demons serve us, the Auxiliary Monarchs, and we serve Queen Avdotya,” he declares. That’s old information, but they all note the somehow-surprising reverence in his voice. “Queen Avdotya, in turn, serves our great leader, the Hydra. The Hydra is the most powerful being in the universe, capable of ruling all.”

“If it’s the most powerful being in the universe,” Wanda muses, “why does it need to steal energy from lowly humans to survive?”

“Why do humans need to eat the animals they otherwise coo over?” Kresnik asks. “Why do they need to drink water? As it is the animals’ purpose to be consumed, it is humans’, and similar beings’, purpose to become energy for our great leader. Every creature needs to survive on something.”

Steve folds his arms. “Because, maybe this is just me looking at it like a lowly human, it sure seems like your so-called great leader relishes pain and suffering, too,” he says.

“Do humans not make sport of hunting animals?” Kresnik counters. “Do humans not make sport of hunting each other?”

“Some humans,” Steve corrects. “It’s not a game for most of us. It’s a game for you and your leader.”

Kresnik shrugs showily. “It is what it is,” he says. “We take pleasure in jobs well done.”

The snow leopard demon makes an impatient noise, shifting from one foot to the other and twirling its tail in one hand. “Master…”

“What, Bars,” Kresnik snaps.

“The humans went away,” the demon points out. _And you’re just chatting_ , is the implication, though being a summoned entity of minimal intelligence probably means it can’t or isn’t inclined to articulate this point.

“Then go _get_ them,” Kresnik shouts.

The monster starts down the path that the most guests exited by, but the Sailor Guardians - all feeling enlightened by the little bit of insight they’ve gotten into, if not the Winter Kingdom’s workings, then its mindset - are there ready and waiting for it. “Lovely Bolt!” Sharon shouts, aiming pink electricity at it.

Of course, this makes it howl and stop in its tracks.

“Do something!” Kresnik yells.

So the anthropomorphic snow leopard rears back and lunges for Wanda, causing her to fall against Natasha in a messy heap. “Oh,” Wanda murmurs, eyes wide. “I, I’m sorry.”

Natasha shrugs. “Just how battle goes,” she says evasively, tugging on her skirt and pulling Wanda to standing with her.

(Wanda thinks, privately, that it must just be the electricity in Natasha’s powers that’s causing the charge she felt from brushing the other girl’s bare skin. That’s all. She doesn’t feel _that_ way, not when she’s perfectly happy feeling that way about Sharon already.)

(Natasha doesn’t make the connection between her powers and that spark of energy between them, but she certainly notices it.)

(And Sharon, currently circling the demon ready to attack, notices the others’ expressions with curiosity and a calm lack of jealousy. There’s something she hadn’t thought about, though this isn’t the time to think about it of course.)

“Eloquent Illusion Zap!” Natasha shouts once she’s up and ready, rising onto her toes to achieve full ballerina posture and therefore maximum effectiveness.

“Tangible Truth Evocation!” Wanda cries, blasting the demon with her own pink and red light.

“Sailor Moonstone! It’s time!” Steve exclaims.

“Translucent Meditation!” Peggy yells.


	19. Growing Interest: Things Heat Up For The Sailor Guardians (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon, Wanda, and Natasha train together and bond.

“How long have you been dancing?” Wanda asks Natasha.

The three younger Sailor Guardians are currently sprawled out on the floor of one of the aerobics rooms in the International High building. Sharon, goody-goody that she is, asked the women at the front desk if she could borrow a key so she and some friends would have a place to train without getting bothered by the sorts of men who bother young girls working out at exercise clubs, and they were quick to agree, winking in that adult-woman way that means “oh, we know men are awful, but they just can’t help it, can they? Good for you for taking care of yourselves.” It was upsettingly predictable, but it got the job done, and now they’re reaping the benefits. Training wasn’t even an exaggeration: though: they have their Guardian defense mechanisms, Guardian attacks, but being better able to protect themselves even without those has struck all of them as wise, especially lately.

Peggy and Steve bowed out of the session today, expecting (rightly) that the girls were looking for another bonding exercise of sorts. For all of Sharon’s initial reputation-based hesitance about Natasha, she and Wanda have tried to take the opportunities they can to make the slightly older girl more comfortable in their group (both socially and in terms of fighting evil), and also with the two of them as friends, which accounts for Wanda’s attempts to frame the conversation around her.

Such as this one.

That question, like most others that involve her past, makes Natasha initially flinch, then shrug it off and approximate a smile. She wants (they think) to put off the appearance that nothing fazes her, but occasionally something does. “Oh, forever,” she says with a casual shrug. “As early as I could, probably. A little girl that dances is the kind of little girl people want. She’s a showperson, she’s precocious, she’s girly. It worked in my favor.”

Sharon wrinkles her nose. They’re neither of them good at figuring out when Natasha’s inviting further questions yet, but she feels like she has to say _something_. “But you like it, too, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha says. “I would have quit ages ago if I didn’t like it.”

Again Sharon’s unsure of how to react to that, and she glances nervously at Wanda (whose better intuition for people perhaps stems from her mental abilities) until Wanda asks, very carefully, “What about it do you like best?”

Natasha blinks. “Um,” she says. “That’s a question I haven’t been asked before, really.” She thinks for a moment, then adds, “Most of it. It requires discipline, precision, but also grace and… spirit, I guess. It’s important to know what you’re doing, and it’s obvious who’s not up to the standard, but you could get up and dance the most technically perfect routine and if there wasn’t some fire behind it everyone would be bored out of their minds.”

The others nod, and Sharon quips, “I’m assuming you know what you’re doing by now.”

“Yeah, probably,” Natasha jokes right back. “Years of practice has a way of doing that for you. And a lot of the time, ballet has been more of a home for me than wherever I’m technically holed up. It’s just… safe. For me, anyway.” She averts her eyes, because that at the end was more serious than she usually tends to be. These two have a way of bringing that out in her, but she’s not entirely comfortable with it. (Yet?)

“It makes sense,” Wanda muses. “You can lose yourself in it, no matter what else is going on in your life, no matter where it takes you. It can be a release.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, sounding surprised at how clearly put that is.

“You think that’s why your transformation’s all ballerina-esque?” Sharon asks.

“You’d know as well as I would about that,” Natasha says. “Maybe I transform with toe shoes and a little tulle because the great cosmic whatever saw that I’m a dancer. Maybe I’m a dancer because the great cosmic whatever influence me toward it to match up with whoever I was in the, uh, the Iridescent…”

“Sovereignty,” Wanda supplies. “It’s a reasonable question, and one I’ve also asked myself.”

Natasha tilts her head. “Because of…?”

“My intuition,” Wanda says. “My inclination toward prescience. My use of talismans. Any and all of it: I’m not sure if it came from before, or if it joined with what did, or what.” She reaches for her bottle of water (it’s bright pink, the same color as the bows of her uniform). “But whatever it is, it is a part of who I am now. I’m not sure that understanding where it came from is as important as accepting it for what it is.”

She sounds oddly melancholy; usually any discussion of her not-explicitly-Guardian-based powers is very straightforward and factual. For the first time, though, Sharon and Natasha have a glimpse of the burden that such powers might come with, and how it may affect their girlfriend/teammate/friend/etc.

“Makes sense,” Sharon says reassuringly, and she and Wanda quickly squeeze hands.

“Where do we want to start today?” Natasha asks after a moment, because it’s easier than watching them be sappy for another five minutes.

“You wanna lead?” Sharon offers. “Since, y’know.”

“I’m the scary one who kicks people’s asses,” Natasha deadpans.

“You’re the more experienced fighter and dancer,” Sharon corrects. It’s very important that Natasha understands her value, to the group and to them.

“Please?” Wanda adds.

So they begin. First, Natasha leads them in a series of stretches largely borrowed from ballet classes (they don’t have a barre, though, and she swears to track one down by their next meeting). It’s interesting to watch the other two: Sharon is very precise, good at grasping the mechanics of a particular movement immediately, but she takes longer to get comfortable, to be emotionally present in her body. Wanda, on the other hand, radiates emotional presence; her movements are fluid and often even elegant, though she doesn’t always execute them perfectly, especially at first. It says a lot about them as people, Natasha thinks, and she appreciates the insight as much as the fact that it doesn’t involve any conversation.

She _did_ manage to borrow a heavy bag for today, though, so once they’ve warmed up appropriately she leads them over and starts demonstrating proper punching technique. “You _have_ punched before, at least?” she asks skeptically.

“The closest I’ve ever come is playing volleyball,” Sharon admits.

“You play volleyball?” Wanda asks curiously.

“I’m kinda on the team,” Sharon says. “Only JV right now, but still.”

“That’s nothing like punching,” Natasha points out, smirking.

“There are fists involved and they hit something,” Sharon says. “Like I said, closest. Not identical.”

Natasha nods and glances at Wanda. “What about you, then?” she asks. “I know you said you’d gotten in a couple of fights before.”

Wanda laughs without humor. “If any punches were thrown, it was very improperly,” she remarks. “I mostly relied on kicking and elbows and my fingernails.”

“Well, we’re going to fix that,” Natasha declares.

The next half-hour is spent, then, taking turns hitting the bag, soft at first and then harder as they go. It takes some doing, but they do make progress with it, enough that by the time they’ve taken a break to get water and take a slow stroll around the room to cool down Natasha actually seems visibly proud of them.

After their break Wanda says, “What about fighting in close quarters?”

“What about it?” Natasha asks.

“Well, what do you do when you’re… grappling, I suppose?” Wanda counters. “I doubt that many of the demons we fight will get that close to us, but other people might.” Her eyes and tone darken, no doubt meaning she’s thinking of some of the acts of less supernaturally-motivated violence she’s encountered.

“That’s going to have to be its own day,” Natasha says, “but I guess we could go over some basics before we get back to the bag.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sharon remarks.

So they start in on it, Natasha demonstrating movies in air before she goes to try any of them with the girls. It’s very rudimentary stuff, but she can’t help but notice the way that Sharon and Wanda glance at each other almost inquisitively every time one of them or the other is physically in contact with her.

Suddenly she’s not sure if this is a self-defense course or an amateur seduction, and suddenly she’s not sure she’s opposed to either.

The breaking point comes when she has Sharon pinned to the ground, showing some techniques for maneuvering out of such a position, and suddenly she meets Sharon’s eyes and Sharon lifts her head just enough and -

They’re kissing. Actually, really kissing, not just by accident kissing.

“I thought you two were…” Natasha mumbles once they break apart.

Wanda, who’s sat down on the floor beside them with a cheeky grin, remarks, “We are, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be with you as well. She doesn’t get all of the fun.”

 


	20. Growing Interest: Things Heat Up For The Sailor Guardians (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon, Wanda, and Natasha begin negotiating their relationship; the Sailor Guardians face vague threats.

They decide to reward themselves for a good training session with smoothies. It’s the kind of place that’s not going to get you looked at funny for coming in sweaty and in your workout clothes, which is part of the advantage; plus, it’s still sticky-hot outside, and something healthy but cold and sweet sounds perfect.

They’re walking there (just a couple of blocks away from the school) when Natasha realizes it might count as their first date. Normally the thought of dating makes her cringe, but this is different. She’s not sure if it’s different because there’s three of them, because they’re all girls, because they’re teammates, or something else entirely, but it definitely is different, in a way she can feel.

“Are you alright?” Wanda asks her carefully, her expression legitimately concerned.

That’s going to take some getting used to, people actually worrying about her.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Wanda asks, because even though she can sort of intuit it she doesn’t want to be nosy.

Natasha shakes her head. This isn’t a walking-down-the-street discussion, if it’s even any kind of discussion (which she’s not totally sure about yet), so instead she says, “How cute your hair looks when it’s messed up like that.”

Self-consciously, Wanda’s hands fly to her hair, smoothing it down flat. “You should have said before,” she mumbles, embarrassed.

“I don’t think anyone would pick up on it if they weren’t looking for it,” Natasha shrugs. “I just happen to know why it’s disheveled, so I noticed. And like I said, it’s cute.”

“Well,” Wanda says, blushing. “Thank you, then.”

“Do I have makeout hair too?” Sharon asks over her shoulder, grinning mischievously.

“A little,” Natasha decides. “What about me?” She tosses her red curls, fully aware that they never really get messy, no matter what.

“Not really,” Sharon replies, sticking her tongue out. “Showoff.”

“It’s what I do,” Natasha hums.

By now Sharon and Wanda have magnetized, hands joined as they lazily walk down the street. They’ve only been dating a little while, since barely before they met Natasha, but this is already habit to them, clearly. It’s something they do without even thinking about it.

Natasha has to think about it. That’s her curse, or something.

“So how does this part work?” she asks the other two.

“This part?” Wanda asks. It’s clear she’s the more innocent-in-the-ways-of-the-world one of them, despite her mental abilities and occasional brushes with darkness in the form of fights she hasn’t explained and bigotry they’ve seen her encounter.

“Cute couple stuff,” Natasha clarifies. They arrive at the smoothie shop and head inside, and Natasha shakes her head. “We’ll talk more when we’re sitting, I guess.”

“Okay,” Sharon and Wanda both say, frowning like they’re not sure what needs to be talked over but trusting Natasha’s judgment (since she’s easily the _least_ innocent-in-the-ways-of-the-world one of them).

They place their orders (Natasha wonders for a horrified moment if either of them is going to insist on paying for her, but they all cover their own bills) and wait for their orders to be called before they find a table outside, under a big umbrella so it’s not _too_ hot.

Once again, it feels weirdly normal.

“Look,” Natasha says before either of them can ask any questions of her, “I’m not trying to make this weird, okay? I’m really not a serious relationship person. I guess I just…” She trails off, rolling her eyes.

“Since we are also teammates, we should discuss this,” Wanda supposes. Maybe because she’s more practical than she seems or maybe because she already knew this would happen, there’s not really any question in her voice.

“Something like that,” Natasha concedes.

“Full disclosure,” Sharon suggests.

Natasha twitches - she doesn’t disclose fully to _anyone_ , period - but then she shrugs. “Something like that,” she repeats. “If you guys just - I don’t know. Want this to be a one and done kind of thing, or a friends-with-benefits one…”

Wanda tilts her head. “Benefits?”

God, she really is innocent.

“Sexual benefits,” Natasha explains. “Friends who also fuck, but with no strings attached.”

Immediately Wanda’s eyes go wide, and she blushes even deeper than before. “Oh, we don’t… I mean, we’ve never, I’m… there is none of that,” she stammers. “Not yet.” She glances nervously at Sharon. “Not that I don’t want… but…”

Sharon squeezes Wanda’s hand comfortingly. “We don’t need to figure _that_ out right now,” she murmurs. To Natasha she adds, “Right now, making out is basically the heaviest it gets. That okay with you?”

“It is,” Natasha says, though she’s a little surprised. “But if that’s just something to do when we have a few minutes, that’s okay. I don’t need to be a _girlfriend_.”

Wanda bites her lip, prompting Sharon to ask, “Would you mind being a girlfriend, though?”

“Excuse me?” Natasha asks, blinking.

“All three of us, being each other’s girlfriends,” Sharon says. “It’s not really normal, but we fight anthropomorphized Communist monsters from outer space. Our lives aren’t really normal.”

That makes Natasha laugh. “True, I guess,” she says. “So girlfriends.”

“Like she and I are already,” Wanda agrees. “But three of us.”

“We talked this over already, and we’re both into it if you are,” Sharon adds. “But if _you’d_ rather keep it casual, that’s okay, too. We don’t wanna make it weird either.”

“The only thing that’s weird right now is how not weird I’m feeling about this,” Natasha admits, but before she has a chance to elaborate on this a dramatic scare chord sounds inside the smoothie shop and the girls all look at each other in a panic.

“I’ll text Peggy,” Sharon exclaims, her thumbs already starting to fly.

From there, it’s a blur of abandoning their half-drunk smoothies, making sure there are no passersby to witness their mysterious transformations (Edwin and Ana haven’t exactly lectured them about the importance of secret identities, but it’s pretty obvious), and running inside to find this week’s demon, a pseudo-sexy female-ish lynx in a purple Jazzercise outfit, currently holding the smoothie shop employees hostage by way of crackling purple-black energy rays.

“Smoothie shops are among the most wholesome of meeting places for people!” Wanda exclaims, sounding more confident than she feels as she strikes a pose. Without Peggy here yet to begin the speech, it falls to one of them, and she’s the first one to let something spill from her mouth. “Sweet fruits not only taste delicious, but provide healthy nourishment for people of all ages. How dare you prey on servers _or_ customers in such a venue!”

Behind her, Natasha blinks. She’s still getting used to the speeches.

“Foolish child!” the demon laughs, reaching its paw out. This shouldn’t do anything, because it’s far enough away from the girls, but the laws of biology are once again disobeyed, because its limb stretches like clay being rolled out and it swats Wanda across the face, leaving claw marks on one cheek and knocking her to her knees.

“Shit!” Sharon hisses, going to Wanda’s side immediately. “Sailor Almandine, are you okay?”

“Just startled,” Wanda manages to say, glaring daggers at the lynx.

Natasha, meanwhile, has risen up en pointe and started to brandish her bracelets. “Eloquent Illusion _Zap_!” she shouts, performing her customary jeté and stunning the demon enough to make it release its hold on the smoothie shop employees.

It shrieks and flails, which Wanda privately thinks serves it right, but before it can retaliate Peggy and Steve burst through the door dramatically. “You _rogue_!” Steve exclaims, drawing his laser pistol and firing at the monster to knock it even further back. “Ruining people’s pursuit of flavorful, summery beverages. How dare you!”

“Damn you!” the lynx wails, clutching its shoulder where the laser made contact. It looks about to react further when Kresnik appears in the customary swirl of petals, glaring. “Rys, you failure. You know you should have defeated these infants before their superior arrived.”

“Just give me another chance!” the lynx demon begs.

Peggy tosses her head. “You’ve just given away your plan, villain,” she points out. “You’re out of chances, and I bet your floating boss is running out as well.”

“Never!” Kresnik retorts, though he’s not doing anything to protect himself or his monster either.

“Talismanul Purificator!” Wanda shouts, lobbing a paper charm at Kresnik and knocking him off-balance. While he’s recovering, she yells to Peggy, “Sailor Moonshine, now!”

“Translucent Meditation!” Peggy calls, performing her finalizing attack. The lynx goes static and then evaporates as per usual, and also as per usual Kresnik reacts with more disgust than anger.

“You’ve killed this creature,” Kresnik snarls, “but we’re learning not only about collecting energy but how better to defeat silly things like you. Soon, Sailor Moonshine, your end will be near!”

Of course, he disappears before they have a chance to retort.

 


	21. Glamour and Disaster: The Winter Kingdom Loves To Attack Things People Love (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of a new, likely plot the Guardians begin to deconstruct Winter Kingdom methodology.

“English, you’ll never believe it,” Angie announces, coming up to link her arm with Peggy’s as they both walk across the campus green.

“Hello to you too,” Peggy replies, laughing and leaning to kiss her girlfriend on the cheek. “What’s got you so excited, then?”

“There’s an actual real-life movie star coming to visit!” Angie exclaims, eyes wide. “And he’s gonna be doing a seminar and auditions for his upcoming movie and they’re having a big banquet for him and I get to be one of the girls workin’ it! Like, waitress stuff, but there’s gonna be a little cabaret too and I’m gonna sing something! I dunno yet what I’m gonna pick, maybe the audition one from _Last 5 Years_? It’s pretty funny and shows a lot of range, but -”

“Slow down,” Peggy says, shaking her head fondly. “I want to hear everything, I do, but I can’t take that all in at once. There’s a movie star coming? Who is it?”

Here Angie seems to deflate a little. “Well, that’s the thing, they won’t actually tell us yet,” she sighs.

“They being…?”

“The school? The drama department? I’m not really sure,” Angie admits. “But if it’s gotta be a secret, it _must_ be someone big and important, right?”

“Yes,” Peggy murmurs, but warning bells are starting to go off in her mind. A mystery man, allegedly famous, is appearing randomly at a specific and not even particularly large college in New York City, hosting events that are likely to draw high-energy crowds, specifically of young and enthusiastic girls?

Sounds like a Winter Kingdom trap to her.

But Angie is so excited and cheerful about the prospect, and there’s no way to tip her off to suspicions without Peggy explaining _everything_ to her, and it’s not that she doesn’t intend to explain someday but she’s still sorting that out, that there has to be a solution that’s _not_ just dismissing it outright.

Instead what Peggy does is ask, “Are all of these events going to be exclusive to the department, or can any somewhat interested students attend?” She’s pretty sure she knows the answer, but she wants to ask anyway.

“Oh, they’re for anyone here,” Angie says, apparently unaware of Peggy’s internal conflict. “Want me to get you tickets?”

“To see you perform, of course!” Peggy assures. “The rest I’d need to check my schedule about, but that, certainly. You should _definitely_ do the one from _The Last 5 Years_ , it’s hilarious. And you get to show personality as well as vocal range, yes?”

Angie beams. “Yeah!” She nuzzles against Peggy’s arm. “It’s always nice to know you’re payin’ attention.”

“Always,” Peggy says confidently.

 

* * *

 

Sharon doesn’t have volleyball practice today and Natasha doesn’t have ballet, so all of the Sailor Guardians are actually able to make the meeting Peggy calls last-minute. The three high schoolers are even early, arriving while Peggy and Steve are still in the shower cleaning up after their afternoon workout; they can be heard coming down the hall of the apartment building before they even reach the door, a fact Edwin remarks on dryly. “If ‘the sound of teenage girls’ could be succinctly defined, that would be how,” he says, hopping up onto the counter to watch the front door.

“Don’t be snide,” Ana remarks, coming to sit beside him.

“I say it with nothing but fondness,” he assures her, nuzzling her cheek idly.

It’s as he’s partaking in this catlike affection that the girls come trooping in (the door being already unlocked, since the cats are there to supervise but lack the opposable thumbs or necessary height to maneuver a doorknob), all of them looking remarkably cheery for having just come from school (not that any of them particularly dislike school, even rebellious Natasha, but they’re in considerably brighter spirits in each other’s company, that’s clear).

“I have been wondering,” Wanda muses, tilting her head at the cats as they all sit at the dining table and start pulling out homework to keep busy with, “what _are_ you two?”

Edwin and Ana exchange puzzled glances. “We were both Queen Margaret’s advisors in the Iridescent Sovereignty,” Edwin says. “We continue to advise Princess Margaret, Peggy, in the present era. You know that.”

“No, what are you to each other?” Wanda presses. “You’re close, that’s clear, but is your physical affection just because non-humans have different acceptable standards for that or is it because you _love_ each other?”

“Of course we care for each other,” Ana says curiously.

“But is it love, though?”

Natasha can see where this is going - another ten minutes of back-and-forth before the point is reached - and decides to cut to the chase. “What she means is, are you _in_ love?” she asks.

Flushing, Wanda nods. “I have been thinking a lot about that lately, and how to recognize it, but it is harder to tell with cats,” she says.

Ana blinks guilelessly. “But we’re cats,” she says. “Cats don’t fall in love.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon presses, leaning on her hand.

Just then, Peggy and Steve come out of the bedroom-bathroom, Peggy towel-drying her hair. “Good, you’re here,” she says to the girls. “I think I’ve figured out where the next Winter Kingdom plot is occurring.”

“Really?” Sharon asks.

“Really,” Peggy confirms, nodding decisively. “Angie told me this morning that her drama department has announced the imminent visit of a, and I quote, ‘real-life movie star.’ He’ll be coming to the campus to participate in all manner of creative activities, potentially also recruiting students to participate in his upcoming projects.”

“Yeah?” Natasha prompts. “That’s a little weird, but how do you know it’s the Winter Kingdom?”

“They haven’t actually told the students who this movie star is,” Peggy sighs. “It’s apparently a big mystery, some sort of publicity debacle.”

“But what that really means is that it’s probably just an excuse to get a bunch of people in the same place to suck their energy,” Steve adds. “The movie star probably isn’t a movie star at all, but a monster.”

“God, if I ever believed in happy coincidences before all of this I’d have given it up by now,” Natasha snarks. “It seems like every time something cool or fun or new happens around here, it’s really just because there’s a bad guy involved.”

“Didn’t a new shop just open up around the corner from our school?” Sharon asks, clearly trying hard to prove a point although she understands Natasha’s too.

“Yeah, an H&M,” Natasha replies. “It’s not like it’s an independently owned boutique specially designed to cater to the needs of fifteen-to-seventeen year old girls, it’s a chain store. Chain stores are safe, at least in this regard.”

“Unfortunately, that’s the safe assumption,” Edwin says. “The Winter Kingdom, in this day and age, seems prone to creating schemes based on things that will excite and therefore lure in primarily young people, often young women, to drain the energy from. I suppose you could posit the theory that young people, young women, are more prone to visible shows of energy, or by being young are more likely to produce energy, or something like that.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “I’m fairly certain their targets are young people but mostly young women because they feel young people but mostly young women are easier to manipulate, in emotional ways,” she retorts. “Just like how their real-life offshoot Hydra targets primarily young people but mostly men because they’re easier to manipulate, in terms of being susceptible to vehement doctrine.”

“Emotional ways meaning that young women are societally more conditioned to showing their emotions, and therefore making it more obvious what they’re willing to expend energy on,” Wanda translates. “What you say about the gangs is true, though.”

“And let’s not forget that the Winter Kingdom is full of a bunch of space Communists,” Sharon chimes in. “I’m pretty sure they like going after people in allegedly commercial environments because they think it’s a good way of tearing apart capitalism and those who believe in it.”

“Which would be another reason to suspect this movie star ploy,” Peggy agrees. “Given that Hollywood and the movie industry are about as capitalist and commercial as you can get in a lot of cases. Add that to the fact that they can allegedly rely on the lure of a handsome movie star to draw in the giddy and foolish young straight women, who I’m fairly certain are the only women they openly acknowledge the existence of…”

“They _have_ always kind of blown past our flirting or whatever,” Sharon muses.

Peggy nods at her. “Anyway, the first event the university is hosting for this alleged movie star is a banquet, at which drama department students will be both serving and performing,” she explains. “Angie is already signed up to participate, and especially given that she doesn’t know about all of this but mostly on the very slim off-chance that this actually is the opportunity it seems I can’t very well forbid her from doing, so I’m going to be attending to keep an eye on things. It’s possible that the attack will take place that night, so if the rest of you were to also be available and present…”

“Would we be pretending to be college students?” Sharon asks, clearly eager about the prospect.

“Possibly,” Peggy says. “I’m not sure yet if the events are open to the public or to just students from the university, but I’ll look into it. Are we all open to this?”

“Mm-hmm,” Wanda and Natasha chorus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that I've slightly changed the name of the past-life space kingdom to which our heroes belonged. After a recent rewatch of _GOTG2_ I didn't feel comfortable continuing to say "sovereign(ty)" and "golden" in the same title, since the Sovereign of said film - populated by creepy gold people in creepy gold places - practiced eugenics and was pretty yikes. I looked, there's nothing that could adequately replace "Sovereignty" for the vibe and purpose here, but it's easy to make the switch to Iridescent. That goes better with moonstones anyway.


	22. Glamour and Disaster: The Winter Kingdom Loves To Attack Things People Love (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the movie star's welcome banquet is held. As expected, it goes poorly.

“ _Why is the pianist playing so loud? Should I sing louder? I'll sing louder. Maybe I should stop and start over, I'm gonna stop and start over._ ”

Up on the little makeshift stage the theatre department put up in the conference room currently being used as a banquet hall, Angie is belting and acting up a storm, wringing her hands and fretting through the portion of the song that, as Peggy understands it, is meant to be the character’s internal monologue and not the actual piece she’s singing for her fictional audition (this Angie sings as sweetly and pleadingly as possible). And Peggy is trying her hardest to pay attention, because she really does love watching her girlfriend perform, but she keeps looking around the room for signs of this so-called celebrity, one Fintan Konstantin (that’s a made-up name if Peggy ever heard one, and does feature the Russian derivation that might give him away as a Winter Kingdom minion).

“So I guess he’s not exactly a movie star,” Angie had sighed at her when they met up for lunch earlier in the day. “That we’d have heard of. But he’s apparently kind of well-known in Europe? And I figure, you have to get your start somewhere, somehow.”

“Have you met him yet?” Peggy asked.

“Not directly,” Angie said. “He was schmoozing with department heads all day, but he’s gonna be at the banquet. Apparently.” It was pretty clear, earlier, how disappointed Angie was, but now there’s no sign of it. She’s just grinning and mugging and stealing all the hearts of the audience members.

Peggy’s proud, even if the circumstances are terrible.

“ _Why is the director staring at his crotch? Why is that man staring at my resume? Don't stare at my resume, I made up half of my resume. Look at me. Stop looking at that, look at me._ ”

“She’s really good,” Steve whispers to Peggy, leaning over and smiling.

“Isn’t she?” Peggy murmurs, delighted. All she hopes at this point is that the demon waits until _after_ the song is finished to attack. She wants everyone to get to see Angie be wonderful.

“ _No, not at my shoes. Don't look at my shoes, I hate these stupid shoes. Why did I pick these shoes? Why did I pick this song? Why did I pick this career? Why does this pianist hate me?_ ”

“There you guys are!” Sharon whisper-exclaims, coming to sit at the table and waving for Wanda and Natasha to follow. They’re all wearing the fancy dresses they used for the make-believe beauty pageant and also, Peggy and Steve notice, carrying glasses of bright-red punch, Sharon’s half-drunk and the others’ somewhat less that.

“Here we are,” Peggy agrees, momentarily letting her gaze tear away from Angie. “Are you alright? You seem flushed.”

Sharon shrugs showily. “I feel fine,” she says. “Great, actually. This punch is delicious.”

Peggy’s eyebrow raises. “What’s the flavor?” she asks, because she’s suddenly suspicious.

“Fruit,” Sharon says without missing a beat. “Very red fruit.”

“This is the second glass she’s had,” Natasha explains. “We’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

That pretty well answers Peggy’s question, but she still asks Sharon, “May I try a sip?”

“Of course!” Sharon giggles.

Peggy does. It’s very definitely spiked, which thanks to Angie she knows wasn’t an official decision but probably just a stupid prank (not even Winter Kingdom stupid, just young people stupid). “Well, be careful,” she sighs, putting the cup down on the table but not returning it to Sharon directly. “Are you two doing alright, too?”

Natasha shrugs gamely. “It’s not the first mystery punch I’ve ever come across,” she says.

“I don’t think I like it very much,” Wanda admits softly. “It makes my brain feel strange.”

“You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to,” Steve says kindly. “In fact, it would probably be better if you didn’t.”

“Thank goodness,” Wanda mutters, setting her cup down with a dramatic false shudder.

They all fall quiet, watching Angie finish her song, and when she does Peggy is the first to start applauding, standing to do so eagerly enough that it inspires a good half of the audience to do the same. Angie beams, giving a little curtsy before she blows Peggy a kiss and scampers off the stage.

Right over to where they’re all sitting, of course, where she plants another, realer kiss on Peggy’s cheek. “Hey, Peg,” she says. “Hey, everyone else. Do I finally get to meet the gang?”

“Of course, of course,” Peggy chuckles. “You’ve met Steve.”

“Hey, Ang,” Steve says, giving a little wave. “You were great up there.”

“Thanks,” Angie replies, obviously preening.

“Then this is Sharon, she’s my… well, we’re related, distantly,” Peggy continues, waving a hand. That’s the simplest way of explaining it. “And her friends Wanda and Natasha.”

Sharon smiles widely. “No need to get coy about it,” she chides, then to Angie she clarifies, “We’re dating. All three of us. So it’s kinda the same as you guys, but not really.”

“Gotcha,” Angie smirks.

“Someone spiked the punch,” Natasha says in a showy whisper. “Might wanna look into fixing that.”

Angie looks between her (smug, but that seems normal), Wanda (withdrawn, but that might just be her personality), and Sharon (red in the cheeks and giggly). Makes sense. “Will do,” Angie agrees, nodding. “Look, I gotta get back to work, but I wanted to come over and say hi.”

“Good,” Peggy says. “You were wonderful, and we’ll see you after, alright?”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Angie hums, saluting as she skips off.

“She seems effervescent,” Wanda muses, watching her.

“Remarkably,” Peggy agrees with a wistful sigh. “That’s a large part of why I’ve been hoping this was just a strange coincidence that _looked_ like it would be a monster attack. I hate to disappoint her.”

“That makes sense,” Natasha says. “Have you seen the so-called movie star yet?”

“Hey,” Steve interjects, nodding up to the stage. “Looks like there he is.”

Sure enough, a handsome blond man in a nice suit is taking the stage, waving at the audience like he expects them to be impressed (most just seem confused). “Greetings,” he says, and he’s sporting the appropriate Winter Kingdom accent, which makes all of the Sailor Guardians look at each other with concern. “I’m so pleased that so many people came to this event tonight. It’s so thrilling to see so many eager young people, full of enthusiasm, in one place.”

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Natasha snarks to the rest of her table.

“You notice he hasn’t mentioned acting, theatre, or the arts at all yet,” Wanda adds.

“I wasn’t sure how much interest we would be able to drum up in such a short time,” he continues, smiling widely. “But it turns out that university students are exactly as shallow and fame-hungry as we thought.”

Murmurs of confusion start to ripple through the crowd.

“All we had to say was that you might get to be _near_ one of your commercialized, idiotic film stars and you showed up in droves,” he says. “All the better to surrender your energy to our great leader!”

As he starts to transform into a large, uncomfortably ripped humanoid dhole, the crowd breaks out screaming; luckily, Peggy and the others could sense where that monologue was leading long before it got there, and have already run out to transform.

“Freeze and be blinded by the spotlight you yearn for so greatly!” the dhole man shouts, sticking his paws out and projecting great beams of light that do, in fact, freeze the audience in their spots (some of them still sitting, some of them running toward the door). “Now,” he continues, musing to himself, “I will be able to harvest their energy!”

“Not so fast!” Peggy shouts, appearing at the back of the room with the others flanking her. “Just because you were able to turn your cynical outlook about celebrity culture into an opportunity to hurt young people doesn’t mean that you can be allowed to follow through with it!”

“Oh, _you_ ,” the dhole says. “My master thought that you would be easily found where other foolish children are. He will be glad to know he was correct.”

“There’s nothing foolish about wanting to follow your dreams!” Steve exclaims indignantly. “These people you want to punish are only guilty of wanting a little excitement and happiness in their lives!”

“ _Foolish children!_ ” the demon bellows, reaching out to blast them with more light (this time orange instead of yellow, so it clearly won’t freeze them in the same way).

“Oh no you didn’t!” Sharon shouts, with decidedly more attitude than usual. “Lovely Bolt!” Her pink electric energy meets the demon’s orange light halfway and with some effort, she holds it steady until it overcomes the enemy and knocks it back on its ass.

The others, meanwhile, have taken position around the room, and not even on purpose Peggy winds up next to where Angie stands frozen, tray of desserts on one arm. She gasps, but she knows it would do no good to let the demon see that she cares for Angie - that would put her in more danger. Instead, she calls, “Sailor Almandine! Sailor Carnelian! Do your thing!”

Wanda and Natasha nod at each other - they’ve recently realized that they can combine their attacks for extra power, and this seems as good a time as any. “Tangible Truth Evocation!” Wanda shouts, performing the appropriate gestures, just as Natasha cries, “Eloquent Illusion Zap!” Their pink-and-red and bright blue energy blasts combine into one swirling beam and serve to keep the dhole from advancing, though he’s trying weakly.

“Now, Sailor Moonstone!” Steve yells.

With one last glance at Angie, Peggy steps away and shouts, “Translucent Meditation!” As soon as the attack is performed and completed, causing the monster to disappear, the frozen banquet guests are all released from their spell. Angie, who was apparently mid-step when she froze, starts to tumble, and Peggy immediately runs for her without thinking about her secret being revealed.

She catches her and is met with those familiar wide eyes staring up at her.

“Sa...sailor Moonstone?” Angie stammers, clearly stunned and curious.

“Yes,” Peggy replies, feeling her heart in her chest. “You’re fine, I promise.”

They’re going to need to have a talk sooner rather than later, aren’t they?

 


	23. Secrets Revealed: Sailor Moonstone and the Guardians' Identities At Risk (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Steve bother the cats about overwhelming personal worries.

When they convene in the kitchen for breakfast, neither Steve nor Peggy looks particularly well-rested.

“Bad dreams again?” Peggy asks Steve, obviously concerned.

“Worrying all night again?” Steve counters, just as sincerely worried.

Of course, that makes them both laugh. Neither of them is the best at actually confronting their own internal dilemmas without prompting, so once the tea and toast and bacon are made and they’ve sat at the table, they stare at each other for a moment, trying to decide who goes first.

Finally she says, “I asked first. What’s going on?”

He sighs. “It’s like you said,” he declares. “I’ve been dreaming about the silver-armed man again. The dreams haven’t ever stopped, but there weren’t as many of them for a while, or they’d end and I’d go back to sleep and have better ones that cancelled out how unnerved I was.”

“But that’s no longer the case,” she prompts.

“In the last couple of weeks, he’s shown up in my dreams almost every night,” he admits. “It’s either that he’s not close enough that I can see his face or that he’s wearing some sort of mask when he _is_ close, so I still can’t tell. I don’t know who he is or why I feel like he’s familiar!”

“Could he be someone from the Iridescent Sovereignty?” Peggy suggests. “I mean, that seems likely, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Steve concedes, “but if he’s from the Iridescent Sovereignty, that’d mean he’s an ally. Sometimes I feel like he must be, like I’m fond of him, but then sometimes he seems so angry, so full of hate.” He drops his voice sadly. “Lately he’s started carrying a machine gun.”

That makes her raise an eyebrow. “Really,” she says. Steve’s futuristic-looking laser pistol aside, guns don’t seem to be Iridescent Sovereignty tech, but then neither do they usually belong to the Winter Kingdom. Still, she has to ask, “Do you think he’s somehow affiliated with the Winter Kingdom?”

“I don’t know,” he groans, putting his head in his hands. “I can’t tell who or what he is, Peg. He just keeps haunting me.”

Edwin and Ana come sauntering out of the bedroom (they ate a good hour and a half ago before Peggy got in the shower and then went back, happily full, to have a lie-in like cats are wont to do) and immediately Ana jumps up on the table, settling far enough from Steve and Peggy’s breakfasts to maintain sanitary conditions. “Discussing your bad nights?” she asks, perhaps more archly than intended.

“Something like that,” Peggy replies, rolling her eyes but still reaching over to give Ana a quick scritch behind the ears out of habit. “Steve’s seeing the silver-armed man again. Do you know who he could be?”

Edwin closes his eyes for a moment in thought. “I don’t remember any silver-armed men,” he says cautiously, “but it’s not as if you, Steve - Prince Coronet - were the only man in the Iridescent Sovereignty. You had friends, of course, and there were lords and fathers and those who courted the girls.”

“To little avail most of the time,” Ana chimes in mischievously.

“It’s very possible that you’re dreaming of someone from that time,” Edwin continues. “I suppose it’s technically possible that you knew people that Ana and I didn’t, though it’s unlikely as we rather made it our business to know everyone.”

“Maybe his silver arm is a metaphor?” Ana suggests. “I’m not sure for what, but dreams aren’t always exactly like life, are they?”

“No,” Steve says doubtfully, “but everything else in the dreams has been exactly like what you’ve told us of the Iridescent Sovereignty and exactly like the few things that I’ve remembered.”

The cats frown at each other (as best as cats can frown). “Have you seen the man’s face?” Edwin asks. “Perhaps we’d know the face, if not the arm.”

“I was just telling Peggy that I haven’t, not really,” Steve sighs. “I’ve seen him at a distance, or him wearing a mask. Over his whole face, not just half of it. He has brown hair?”

“Lots of men in the Iridescent Sovereignty had brown hair,” Ana says apologetically.

“It’s not Howard, is it?” Edwin asks suddenly.

“Who’s Howard?” Peggy and Steve ask in unison.

“How do we explain Howard?” Ana asks, chuckling. “Well, Howard is one of us, that is a cat.”

“So the silver-armed man _couldn’t_ be Howard,” Steve says, puzzled.

“Not exactly,” Edwin sighs. “Howard was one of Her Majesty’s technical advisors. Designing some of the weapons that the prince and the Sailor Guardians utilized, helping protect the palace. But as you can imagine, a cat-sized cat wouldn’t be very good at actually constructing or installing or using such things. So Her Majesty granted him a human form for when his cat form just wouldn’t do.” Edwin pauses to roll his eyes. “He rather overused it, if you ask me. For a cat he’s a terrible flirt.”

“So the silver-armed man _could_ be Howard,” Steve says. “I guess a silver arm could be some kind of weapon he was designing?”

“Perhaps,” Edwin says. “He’s got brown hair, but I’m not sure he’d wear a mask. He’s also incredibly vain.”

Ana snorts.

“You said that he _is_ one of you, not that he _was_ ,” Peggy says. “Is he alive in this world as well?”

“That’s also complicated,” Ana says. “Edwin and I are in contact with Howard in the present era, via the command center in the arcade basement. The feed that we have access to connects us to him, and he’s able to offer technical advice. But we actually don’t know where his physical body is, or if the advice is just offered by some sort of program or hologram.”

“Fair enough,” Peggy says, but the mention of the arcade has her going distant.

It’s noticeable enough that after a moment Edwin says, “You’re still fretting over your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Peggy admits, knowing it will do no good to keep that a secret. “I know you said I shouldn’t tell her about all of this, that there’s no way she’ll understand and it will just put her in greater danger -”

“Yes,” Edwin agrees.

“But after the gala I can’t stop thinking about it! She was on the scene during an attack, and I saved her. You’re _really_ telling me there’s no possible way she’ll realize that I’m Sailor Moonstone and that Sailor Moonstone is me?”

“Wanda saved her brother before, and he hasn’t caught onto anything,” Ana says.

“Actually, if I recall the entire time we were fighting the demon who’d trapped Pietro, Wanda did her very best to keep her distance and the others of us were the ones who made direct contract,” Peggy points out.

“Ah,” Ana says. “Well, it stands to reason that there’s magic built into the transformations that keeps your identity from being discovered. I think? That was never really… an issue in the Iridescent Sovereignty.”

Steve and Peggy frown at each other. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t have been,” Peggy sighs. “If our royal selves and our Guardian selves were essentially interchangeable, it would have been a rather known fact.”

“Still, nobody has discovered you up till now,” Edwin chimes in. “Nobody has come up to you on the street and unmasked you -”

“Proverbially,” Ana interjects.

“- and it’s not been an issue,” Edwin concludes.

“But nobody else is Angie,” Peggy insists. “People in the street aren’t exactly paying that close of attention to me, Peggy Carter, as I go about my business, and they’re almost never as close to me, Sailor Moonshine, as Angie was when I stopped her falling at the gala. She looked straight into my eyes, and she’s rather intimately familiar with those.”

“Has she said anything?” Ana asks.

“She’s been avoiding her,” Steve says, because he knows Peggy won’t. “Not meanly, just with a lot of excuses about being busy with classes or tired or something. Angie’s going to catch on that something is up, you know. She’s a smart girl.”

Peggy huffs. “Yes, I know,” she says. “It’s just that I haven’t been able to sort out what the proper thing to say is. Largely because I was under the impression the proper thing to say was nothing.”

“Generally speaking, it is,” Edwin agrees, “but…”

“But in this case it might be flexible?” Peggy suggests hopefully.

“Maybe,” Edwin says. “I don’t know if it’s the wisest idea, or how you’d go about saying it -”

“ _Brrring, brrring_. Hello, Angie, it’s your girlfriend. I’m just calling to tell you I’m a superhero,” Ana chimes in, smiling. She’s clearly teasing, but the direct approach is never a bad thing, is it?

“Oh, dear,” Edwin sighs.

Maybe it is a bad thing.

“I was thinking more along the lines of breaking it to her gently,” Peggy says. “If I were to be permitted to break it to her at all. Something like… hello, Angie. Lovely weather, mm? Say, remember the other night…”

“Hm,” Edwin says.

“Look, if we’re supposed to live as real people, you have to let us actually have those lives,” Steve declares. “Clearly Peggy’s relationship with Angie hasn’t stood in the way of our Guardian duties, or in the way of her being our leader. She’d just be a lot happier if she was allowed to be the best girlfriend she could be, which means being a truthful one.”

“Withholding information isn’t the same as lying,” Edwin says.

“It’s certainly nothing the other party appreciates,” Ana says archly. “I agree. I think you should be able to tell Angie, if you know for absolute sure that it won’t endanger the team. There’s absolutely no way Angie could be affiliated with the Winter Kingdom, correct?”

“Absolutely no way,” Peggy confirms. “If she was, Wanda would have sensed something, and she’s got an alibi for each attack she wasn’t a victim of, and - and I trust her.”

“Well, then,” Edwin says, sounding slightly overwhelmed. “We can work on exactly what you should say, then, but I think it would be safe to let Angie in on your secret if she promised to be discreet.”

“Good,” Peggy and Steve say in unison, smiling.


	24. Secrets Revealed: Sailor Moonstone and the Guardians' Identities At Risk (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and the other Guardians face an alarming personal threat.

Peggy is in the bathroom fixing her lipstick when she hears her phone go off. “Steve, would you check that for me?” she calls.

“Of course,” he replies, and after a moment he adds, “Angie’s calling.”

“Pick it up?”

Steve nods and obliges. “Hey, Angie,” he says, “Peg’s getting ready, but she’ll be out soon, I’ll just -”

“This isn’t Angie,” says a voice on the other line. A man’s voice, a familiar one.

A faintly Slavic-sounding one.

“Kresnik,” Steve hisses. “What do you want?”

“You don’t sound worried,” Kresnik replies, clearly amused.

“I know we can stop you,” Steve says with false confidence.

“What’s going on?” Peggy asks, frowning as she comes into the living room.

Steve holds up a finger in warning, then presses the speakerphone button and turns the volume all the way up. Kresnik is mid-laugh, which makes Peggy startle instantly. “How did you get this number?” she demands, folding her arms over her chest.

“Ah, so one of you is cleverer than the other,” Kresnik scoffs. “At least you’ve thought to question my presence. I have Miss Martinelli’s phone because I have Miss Martinelli.”

Peggy gasps, though she manages to keep the reaction barely audible so as not to alert Kresnik to her panic.

The lack of verbal response is enough to make Kresnik continue smugly, though. “It was not hard to discern your attachment to her through your actions at the so-called gala, Sailor Moonshine,” he says. “And with that attachment came your identity.”

“Did Angie tell you?” Steve asks, sounding like he doesn’t want to believe it.

“Ha!” Kresnik laughs. “It was obvious. The way you looked at her was the same, whether in your civilian disguise or your true form. And those aren’t _so_ different, if you know what to look for. No, your Miss Martinelli is innocent of betraying you. And of a great many things, I expect, except of course the crime of loving you. But it’s her overall innocence that makes it such a shame that she will have to die in your stead.”

“What are you saying?” Steve presses, because it’s clear that Peggy isn’t calm enough yet.

“I’m saying,” Kresnik begins showily, “I’m holding Miss Martinelli captive, and if you don’t come to face your punishment by midnight tonight, Sailor Moonshine, your girlfriend dies and her energy is given to my great leader _for good_! The pure, concentrated energy from just one human is no doubt as strong as bits of energy from several dozen humans”

Peggy is shaking, but very carefully she manages to ask, “Where can we find you?”

“I’m camped out on the roof of one of your corporation’s office buildings,” Kresnik declares. “I can use your tiny communication device to send you a photograph, no?”

“Just send it,” Peggy snaps. “We’ll be there.” She waves insistently at Steve to hang up the phone before Kresnik can issue more threats.

Steve does, but then he immediately frowns. “Are we really going?” he asks.

“Of course we are!” Peggy exclaims. “We have to go, you heard him. He’s holding Angie captive! We can’t just let him -” Here her voice breaks. “He’ll kill her, Steve. We have to stop him from doing that!”

“We do,” Steve says. “I’m not saying that we don’t. We should! We need to - I know she’s…” He frowns and goes to lay a hand on Peggy’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know she’s important to you, Peg. We’re not going to let her just…”

“So why are you hesitating?” Peggy snaps. “If this was about your silver-armed man, if they had _him_ captured and awaiting execution, you’d already be out the door.”

“I know you’re upset, that’s why you’re saying that,” Steve murmurs, frowning deeply, “but that’s still not fair, Peggy. You haven’t even bothered to listen to what I’m thinking, and if you rush into this without a plan…”

“That’s what we always do!” Peggy exclaims. “We need to hurry. We only have until midnight. Call the girls, we need to get to that building!”

 

* * *

 

“So he knows it’s you for sure,” Sharon clarifies, not for the first time since they started toward the building where Kresnik allegedly has Angie captive. “That you, Sailor Moonshine, are…”

“Yes,” Peggy says impatiently. She doesn’t need her identity - and potentially by extension everyone else’s - being shouted out on the street, even if their current baddie is already aware. “He knows a great deal, I’m afraid. Who I am, how I feel about her, that he can use her to get to me.”

“But you’re not going to let him… I mean, what he wants,” Wanda frets. “You’re not going to turn yourself over to him and let him kill _you_ just so that he doesn’t kill her.”

Peggy makes a distressed noise. It’s been clear this entire night that if Kresnik had been trying to find her greatest weakness, the thing that would make her anxious and fearful and rash, he hadn’t known how greatly this would succeed. The others understand her worrying, of course they do, but it’s still distressing to see their leader so harried.

“Sailor Moonshine?”

“I’m going to do what I have to,” Peggy murmurs.

“What she means,” Steve says, more harshly than perhaps he intends, “is that she’s going to act as if she’s going to do whatever she has to do. Getting Angie out safely is important, and we’re not going to let he be sacrificed to their evil overlord -”

“Or overlady, we don’t know,” Natasha interjects wryly.

“We’re not going to let her be sacrificed, but we also can’t let the Winter Kingdom tear us apart or take any of us down tonight,” Steve continues. “That would mean they succeed in their ultimate mission, and we cannot allow that.”

The other Guardians all glance at each other, concerned. This is an especially dark installment in an already troublesome battle for the good of the universe, but that Steve is speaking in such extreme terms only serves to highlight that fact.

“We won’t,” Wanda declares. “We’ll stop Kresnik and whatever monsters he throws at us. We’ll make sure everyone who should gets out alive. I promise.” She says the last more specifically to Peggy, solemn and with a certain tone that a few months ago (before she too was a Sapphic woman in a polyamorous and deeply caring relationship) she wouldn’t have been able to achieve.

“I want you to make sure Angie is safe,” Peggy says firmly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself.”

“You’re not going to make any sacrifice plays,” Natasha says, half-statement and half-caution.

“No,” Peggy agrees (if reticently). “But I might pretend like I’m going to. You need to let me.”

“We will,” Sharon says (definitely reticently). “But you know we can’t let you _too_ much. That would give it away.” She flashes a fake smile. “I’d say the entire Winter Kingdom is pretty aware of the fact that we’re not going to let each other go on suicide missions.”

 

* * *

 

They get up to the top of the building in no time - luckily, the doors and elevators aren’t locked. (There seem to be a few employees burning the midnight oil, which may account for this, but none of them notice the pack of sailor-suited girls and tuxedo-wearing boy tromping through the hallways in a panic. That’s even luckier.) And sure enough, Kresnik is standing at the far edge of the rooftop, posturing before a trio of male-presenting sexualized humanoid marmots who in turn are guarding Angie.

Angie is suspended just slightly off the ground, though her restraints are invisible and therefore likely magical. She looks bedraggled and hardly her usual put-together femme self, but she hasn’t been physically injured to any great degree (no obvious wounds beyond a few scratches and light bruises) and she’s not unconscious (clearly she’s been affected in some way, but she’s still awake). It’s better than it could be.

“Stop right there!” Peggy shouts, jutting out her chin bravely as she strikes a pose and the others follow suit around her. “A person is much more valuable than their pure, concentrated energy! They might contribute great art or philosophy or scientific discovery to the world, or they might contribute great love and devotion to those around them, or any number of things! It’s unfair to reduce them to some small, impersonal thing and unfair to think that they have more to offer in that way than they do as an individual!”

“And it’s especially cruel to target someone just because of who they love,” Steve adds before he can help himself.

“For all of these reasons and more, I must intervene!” Peggy concludes. “Guided by the natural rhythms of life, I will punish you!”

Kresnik laughs cruelly. “Foolish child, driven by matters of the heart and a devotion to the selfish notion of independence and the individual,” he says. “All creatures on this world will be made into energy for our great leader in time, but your… unnatural lover is going to become energy sooner. That is, unless you turn yourself over.”

“Don’t do it, Sailor Moonshine,” Angie rasps, lifting her head and staring into Peggy’s eyes with understanding. “Don’t let him use you like that.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I let you get hurt because of me, Angie,” Peggy replies, and for a moment she’s soft, calm, outside of her superheroine persona. “I should have said something sooner, I shouldn’t have kept so many secrets. It wasn’t fair of me and I can’t bear the thought of my carelessness hurting you.”

“I get it,” Angie says with a faint smile. “I mean… it’s kinda big stuff. Don’t worry about me.”

“No, don’t worry,” Kresnik says. “That would be futile! My Surki, subdue the sinner!”

The marmots coo and laugh, and one of them zaps Angie with electric energy, causing her to cry out.

“Stop!” Peggy shouts. “I’ll turn myself over -”

“Sailor Moonshine, no!” Steve and Sharon and Wanda and Natasha all exclaim, though more to play their parts than anything else. Steve even reaches out as if to hold her back, though he doesn’t actually try to make contact.

“I’ll go with you if only you let her go,” Peggy says seriously. “Do we have a deal?”

“Your life for the minute prolonging of hers?” Kresnik clarifies, chuckling. “It’s a deal. Come to me, pretty princess. It will all be over soon.”

Peggy nods and approaches slowly, her hands held behind her back in apparent submission. “Fine,” she murmurs. Off of Kresnik’s conceding nod, the marmots release Angie from whatever spell had been holding her and they push her off toward the others; Steve reaches to catch her and keep her safely separate from the intergalactic villains, brushing back her hair like a good big brother might.

Kresnik reaches out for Peggy, but before he can react or instruct the marmots to do anything, Peggy summons her Aspiration Dream Wand and reaches out. “Who’s the fool now?” she shouts, slamming Kresnik over the head with the wand before darting back to shout, “Translucent Meditation!”

This doesn’t serve to eliminate Kresnik right away, but he staggers away and falls to his knees, clearly weakened, and Angie shrieks in surprise. The marmot demons wail in conjunction with their boss’ pain, and in their emotionally weakened state Wanda is able to do away with them with a quick “Tangible Truth Evocation!” that makes Angie gasp again, staring with the widest possible eyes.

“We’ll always defeat you,” Peggy declares, advancing once more on Kresnik.

But out of nowhere comes a strange woman’s laugh, and a blonde in a similar green suit appears five feet above the others. “Oh, weak Kresnik,” she croons, with a similar Russian-sounding accent. “Our queen has grown tired of your failure.” Without further preamble, she magicks a sharp implement out of nowhere and sends it sliding through Kresnik’s heart, killing him instantly and causing him to static and then vanish.

“Who’s _that_?” Angie exclaims. “Is she…?”

“One of them,” Sharon confirms. “She may have gotten rid of our enemy, but I think it was only so she can take his place!”

The new woman laughs again and then disappears herself.


	25. Unexpected Arrivals: A Fifth Guardian Isn't The Only One To Appear (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new schoolmate of Sharon and Natasha's makes a grand entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: street harassment.

“Where’re ya goin’, baby?”

Sharon rolls her eyes before she even turns around to look at the man talking to her. As she sort of guessed, he’s probably old enough to be, if not her dad, her creepy uncle. He’s reasonably well-dressed, but clearly trying to sound “cool” - this doesn’t work, of course.

“School,” she replies shortly. “If the uniform wasn’t a big enough clue.”

The man holds up his hands and smiles in a way that’s meant to be charmingly self-deprecating - this also doesn’t work. “Hey, you gotta forgive a guy for hoping,” he says.

“Hoping?”

“You know,” he says, stepping closer to Sharon, following right on her heels as she walks. “Some guys dig the schoolgirl thing. Might have just been for show.”

“I’m fifteen, you perv,” Sharon shouts, picking up her pace.

“Some guys dig that, too,” he says darkly, reaching to grab her wrist.

She screams, even though she doubts it’ll do much good, and twists her arm in his grasp, managing to pull it away and knee him in the stomach all at once. She’s not surprised this just makes him growl and try to grab her again, but before she has a chance to worry about fighting him off further, a seriously heavy bookbag swings up and hits him in the back of the head, causing him to stagger off.

“Next time you think about assaulting girls on the street, remember the concussion I just gave you,” snaps the owner of the bag, a brawny brunette wearing a uniform nearly identical to Sharon’s (white shirt instead of pale blue, and that just poking out of her blue school sweater). She takes Sharon’s arm like they’re already the best of friends and steers her away and toward the subway, sighing. “Sorry about that.”

“About what?” Sharon asks, blinking. “That was amazing!”

“You looked like you could use a little help,” the other girl says sheepishly. “But I didn’t mean to turn you into a damsel or anything.”

“You didn’t,” Sharon assures. “You just turned it into a tag-team.” She laughs, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “Uh, I’m Sharon.”

“Maria,” the other girl replies. “Guessing you’re an International High kid.” This said nodding down at their similar uniforms.

“Yeah,” Sharon agrees. “I definitely don’t remember seeing you before, though.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m new,” Maria says, tugging on her ponytail. “Transfer student.”

“Oh,” Sharon says. “That’s cool!” It’s also unusual, considering how rarely they get new students mid-year, but she’s not getting any bad feelings (not that that’s her province but still). “Where from?”

“D.C.,” Maria says. “It, uh, wasn’t the best place for me. Or my, my parents,” she hastens to add. 

Sharon nods in understanding. “Well, hopefully New York’s a little better for you,” she says. “There’s enough cool people around, if you know where to look. Is today your first day?”

“It is,” Maria agrees. “You gonna be my welcoming committee?”

Sharon grins before she thinks better of it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

It turns out Maria is actually a year older and a grade above Sharon, so instead of offering to do the tour herself Sharon frantically texts Natasha. “She’s really cool,” Sharon promises as they wait. “She’s done the big move thing before, too. So she probably gets it.”

Maria nods, just a little bit cautiously. “She’s a friend of yours?”

“Girlfriend, actually,” Sharon corrects, blushing. “One of them.”

“Well, well,” Maria chuckles. “That’s a refreshing surprise.”

“Lots of girls have girlfriends,” Sharon defends. “Probably.”

“Yeah, but not a lot of them are that up-front about it, especially at our age,” Maria counters. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sharon asks with a laugh.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty good at noticing fellow queers,” Maria replies wryly. “Not going to presume what stripe, that’d be rude, but you seem a little too cool to be straight.”

“Yeah, well,” Sharon mumbles, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “You too.” In her estimations Maria’s a little more stereotypically obvious about it than she is herself, at least in that Maria is about as butch as you can be in a feminized school uniform and in that she considers herself pretty straight-passing to the naked eye (not on purpose, but still), but the compliment still stands.

“This the new girl?” Natasha drawls, wandering up to the pair of them and then promptly blinking in surprise. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Maria echoes, staring at Natasha. “Who’d have thought.”

Sharon looks between the others with confusion. “I’m missing something,” she says, trying to sound casual.

“She’s another one of Fury’s foundlings,” Natasha explains, keeping her voice low enough that they’re not sharing this information with everyone. “Just got here. We haven’t actually met, but I’ve seen her around the building. Maria, right?”

“Right,” Maria agrees. “And here I was thinking there must just be a disproportionate amount of teenage Natashas in New York.”

“I can’t speak for the rest of the city, but you’re only dealing with one,” Natasha replies smoothly. “How’s your schedule? I’d bet we’re in at least some of the same classes.”

“Sorry I lied about it,” Maria adds to Sharon. “Kinda just an instinct at this point. Avoid pity and all that.”

“I know how it goes,” Sharon says, and she does, because she knows Natasha.

Maria unfolds her printout and passes it over. “This day is shaping up,” she declares.

“Isn’t it,” Sharon murmurs, sounding more than a bit bewildered.

 

* * *

 

Once she’s dressed for gym, Sharon glances around the locker room to make sure none of her classmates are spying on her before she slips her phone out of her bag and fires off a text to Wanda.

_> >So I got rescued this morning, and turns out Princess Charming is Tasha’s new foster sister_.

Thankfully, Wanda is somewhere she can text quickly, and she replies a moment later.

_> >Are you having a crisis of interest?_

Because of course she has that figured out.

_> >I don’t know. New girl, Maria, seems cool. Tasha clearly thinks so too._

_> >But you’re still anxious._

_> >I don’t wanna be greedy! What kind of girl has THREE girlfriends._

_> >Probably the same that already has two?_

_> >I appreciate that, I think? But also wouldn’t it be weird to invite Tasha’s foster sister into a pile? I mean, sister._

_> >She’s new, yes?_

_> >Yes._

_> >If they don’t consider each other sisters I don’t think it’s strange. From what Tasha has said, Fury’s arrangement is much more “supervised living” than “family structure.” It’s as if he’s both of their landlords._

Sharon has to nod at that. It makes sense - she’d added the description “sister” herself, she hasn’t heard either of the girls in question use it. And that does seem like an accurate assessment of the situation, overall. Still, though…

_> >So it’s not weird that I’m thinking about this right after we met her?_

_> >No? I’d like to have a say before any decisions are made, but sometimes you just have a feeling, I suppose._

_> >And it’s not weird that we’d be dragging her into a pile with three superheroes, which she can’t know about?_

Wanda’s next response takes just a bit longer to arrive.

_> >Let me have a say. I may have a feeling too, I’m not sure until I meet her._

 

* * *

 

Luckily, nobody has any immediate after-school plans, so the only maneuvering the girls have to do to meet up is to find a place to meet up and get there. There are plenty of coffee shops and diners at a reasonably eve distance from both schools, though, so once one is selected it’s fairly simple.

The International girls arrive after Wanda, and she’s already spread at a booth in the corner, looking both studious (piles of books, uniform) and edgy (large headphones, notably heavy eyeshadow) enough to warn off randoms. When she looks up and sees them, though, she’s all smiles. “Come, sit!” she encourages, making room for all of them.

Sharon slides in beside her, expecting that Wanda will want to look their new friend in the eye as they talk, and Maria and Natasha take the other side of the table without question. “Maria,” Sharon says, “this is Wanda, our other… Wanda, this is Maria.”

As predicted, Wanda stares at Maria curiously, even as she holds her hand out to shake. “Hello,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Maria replies. “They said you go to…”

“The Jewish Community School, yes,” Wanda supplies.

“And you met…?”

“By accident,” Wanda says smoothly. “There was a career fair for several high schools. Sharon and I got to talking, one thing led to another.”

“I see,” Maria says, though it’s clear she has questions even still. She can tell that they’re not saying everything, not in a bad way but in a noticeable one.

And as the conversation continues, this feeling grows, but it’s not the only one. When Maria goes to place their orders at the front counter, Wanda whispers to the other two, “I think Maria might be one of us.”


	26. Unexpected Arrivals: A Fifth Guardian Isn't The Only One To Appear (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria's identity is confirmed and a new sort of monster appears.

“Really?” Sharon asks, looking more than a little thrilled by the prospect. “How do you know?”

“I don’t know, for sure,” Wanda says cautiously. “But I have a feeling. Can you call Peggy? The cats will know. We could tak her over there?”

“Wow, meet the family already?” Natasha asks glibly. “Sounds like we’re planning on getting serious with this girl.”

Sharon goes bright red. “We’re doing research,” she mumbles.

“Research on what?” Maria asks, ambling back over to the table with a lazy sort of grin.

“Oh, a project for my history class,” Wanda lies smoothly. “I need to pick up a textbook from Sharon’s -”

“Cousin,” Sharon says quickly. “Peggy’s my cousin, she’s at City College uptown. She’s a history major, so she’s got a lot of that stuff.”

Maria nods. This seems normal enough, apparently. “Did you need to head out pretty quick?” she asks.

“We can finish our drinks,” Wanda says. “These two are going to tag along, though, and you’re welcome to do as well.” She knows that Maria and Natasha were planning on riding home together, so she expects Maria will come along with them so as not to disturb that plan.

“Yeah, might as well,” Maria shrugs. “I don’t have anything else going.” Just then the barista shouts out their orders, so she adds, “Be right back, I’ll grab those.”

“Don’t be suspicious,” Natasha sings under her breath, smirking.

Sharon and Wanda both roll their eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” Sharon says, reaching across the table to playfully poke Natasha.

“Cute,” Maria coos, sliding back into her seat after placing the drinks on the table. “You’re a little sickening, in a mostly good way.”

“That’s what we’re going for,” Sharon says sheepishly.

 

* * *

 

When they get to the apartment, Steve answers the door with a smile. “This must be Maria,” he says, nodding to her. “Good to meet you. I’m Steve, I’m Peggy’s boyfriend.”

Maria smiles, albeit a little cheekily. “Good to meet you too,” she says, looking into the apartment. “Pretty neat place, for a couple of college students.”

Steve shrugs self-effacingly. “My mom left me some money when she passed,” he says, “and we’re good at making inexpensive things look expensive.”

“That’s the artist in Steve,” Peggy calls, entering from the back room with both cats on her heels. “He puts things together so splendidly.” She takes just a moment to look Maria over, not judgmentally but curiously, and offers a smile of her own. “Pleased to meet. Maria, is it?”

“And I’m guessing you’re Peggy,” Maria replies. “And who are those guys down there?” She nods to the cats - she’s not a huge animal person, but it’s the polite thing to ask, and cats are at least not too in-your-face.

“Edwin’s the brown tabby, Ana’s the orange,” Peggy says. “They’re both usually well-behaved, don’t let them worry you. Not like to tear up your coat or eat your shoelaces or anything,” she adds with a laugh. Both cats resist the urge to roll their eyes - Peggy does like to tease them.

Almost in spite of herself, Maria chuckles. “Nah, they look perfectly civil,” she says. “And they probably wanna come sniff the new kid, don’t they?” She holds a hand out for Edwin and Ana to investigate, and because it’s the proper catlike thing to do, both come over, nosing against Maria curiously.

As Wanda expected, they’re exchanging glances that people who didn’t know they were fully sentient wouldn’t notice but that she, knowing that, can tell means they’re coming to a conclusion about Maria. But they’re not here for that reason, presumably, so she clears her throat and says to Peggy, “Ah, where’s the book? That you were going to lend me?”

“Yes, of course,” Peggy murmurs, going over to the bookshelf.

“I hear you’re new in town?” Steve says to Maria in the meantime, because he’s the best at filling awkward holes in conversations.

“More or less,” Maria says. “You seem like exactly the opposite.”

Steve nods almost proudly. “Born in Brooklyn, spent my whole life in the city,” he agrees. “I mean, I’ve traveled, but I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else. I think -”

But before he can continue waxing rhapsodic about New York (something the others have all heard him do multiple times) they’re interrupted from a scream, faint enough that it’s probably downstairs or even on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?” Maria asks. “I know cities are big with crime, but…”

The others all exchange glances, though. They heard the scare chord, even if Maria apparently didn’t, and know what’s going on; as they run for the door Ana does one of her customary backflips and produces a bright blue wand. “Here!” she calls.

“There’s no time to waste,” Edwin exclaims.

“You can talk? You’re _British_?” Maria yelps, staring at the cats. “What the _fuck_?”

“Well, I _am_ a British shorthair,” Edwin says peevishly. “I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

“You need to transform,” Ana interrupts. “Take the wand and shout ‘Azurite Power’! Do it now, Sailor Azurite, and join the others!”

Maria stares at the wand for a second, baffled, but she’s seen enough cartoons and television to know that this is what happens before you randomly get to be a superhero, and she’s always secretly wanted to be a random superhero or something, so she picks up the blue wand. “Azurite Power!”

When she snaps out of her transformation, she’s clad in a sailor suit like the other girls’: skirt and collar a lighter shade of blue and bow almost navy, topped with an azurite stone that picks up both shades of blue, gloves elbow-length and fingerless, boots thigh-high with a slight wedge heel, hair still in its ponytail but with light blue bobbles. Once again, she can’t help but ask, “What the fuck?”

“You’re a Sailor Guardian,” Edwin explains, nudging her toward the door. “The other girls are too. We’ll explain more later, but they need you now, Sailor Azurite.”

“Are you sure I didn’t just accidentally get a hit of drugs somehow?” Maria asks, though she follows the others’ voices down the hall and staircase as Edwin prompts.

“Positive,” Edwin says. “Though I understand that the talking cat isn’t going to be the best at reassuring you of that.” He nods toward the door leading outside, where all of the others are clearly standing, exchanging insults with a woman in an army-green suit.

“That’s also not the best reassurance,” Maria quips, but she bursts through the doors anyway.

“What’s _this_?” the woman asks.

Maria blinks, and before she can stop herself she shouts, “My friends were first to strike back against your evil, but I couldn’t let them have _all_ the fun. Driven by intellectual curiosity and powerful dreams, I am Sailor Azurite!”

Peggy, Sharon, Natasha, Wanda, and Steve all stare at each other for a moment; Wanda’s the first to grin, Peggy’s the first to call, “Good to have you, Sailor Azurite,” nodding for her to come join their line of defense.

Once she’s there, she notices that the woman they’re facing off against is somehow - by magic? - holding a brown-haired woman suspended a couple of feet in the air. “What’s going on?” Maria asks Sharon quietly, hoping she’ll at least have some sense to say.

“We’re fighting evil Nazi Communists from outer space,” Sharon says plainly, because it’s easier if you don’t sugarcoat it. “This new one has one of P - of Sailor Moonstone’s neighbors hostage. Her name is Gloria.”

“And how do we fight evil Nazi Communists from outer space?” Maria asks, but before Sharon can answer they’re interrupted by their opponent cackling and they look up to see her wielding a pointed black crystal shard, muttering something in Russian, and somehow - by magic? - causing a red crystal to emerge fully-formed but without leaving an exit wound from Gloria’s chest. Gloria shrieks and is instantly obstructed by a blast of black static electricity, and before any of them can question this she’s replaced with a humanoid and human-sized bright red squirrel with giant purses strapped crossways over her body and more held on her arms.

“Explanation for that?” Maria hisses.

“I don’t know,” Sharon says, panicked. “I’ve never - the demons have never been real people before, they’ve just appeared with the Auxiliary Monarchs! I don’t…”

While they’ve been deliberating, Wanda rocks on her heels and then springs forward to throw one of her paper charms, shouting, “Talismanul Purificator!” This is clearly a possession, and possessions should be able to be fixed this way. That’s reasonable.

The rest of the Sailor Guardians are looking at each other in surprise, which only magnifies when the demon (if in fact it _is_ a demon) is able to rip the charm off of its head and laugh after a moment. “Great Zhenya!” it calls to the new Auxiliary Monarch (it’s obvious that’s who the woman in green is, to all of them except Maria at any rate). “How shall I destroy these foolish children?”

Zhenya looks at the Sailor Guardians - and who she understands to be Captain Tuxedo, who Maria knows is Steve and honestly isn’t sure whether or not he’s a Sailor Guardian too or just one of their sidekicks - with a critical eye and laughs. “However you see fit, my Semka,” she says. “I’ll just take your crystal and return to our great leader, I trust you to see fit to finish this job.”

With that Zhenya disappears in the customary storm of rose petals, leaving her monster and the Sailor Guardians behind. This Semka laughs. “I suppose I’ll just have to beat you all into the ground!” it cries ecstatically, charging for them while swinging the giant purses on its arms like impromptu meteor hammers.

“Lovely Bolt!” Sharon shouts, blasting the monster with pink light and leaping out of the way. (Another thing Maria’s noticing? All of the girls are surprisingly nimble.) “Sailor Moonstone, what do we do?”

“Keep fighting it off,” Peggy says, sounding perturbed. “But we can’t kill it! Somehow, that’s still Gloria inside of the monster. It is, isn’t it?” she adds in an aside, directed at Wanda.

Wanda nods. “It is,” she agrees. “Somehow removing that crystal from Gloria’s chest turned her into this Semka creature. I would say we could return the crystal and in doing restore Gloria, but…”

“But Zhenya made off with the crystal,” Steve says. He’s been quiet this whole time, observing mostly, and at least to Peggy (since she’s closest to him) and Wanda (since she picks up on such things) it seems like he’s experiencing great melancholy the likes of which is usually tied to past-life revelations or inferences.

“I know what to do!” calls Edwin, darting out from the bush he’d been hiding behind since escaping the apartment building. “Sailor Moonstone, call up your Aspiration Dream Wand.”

Peggy frowns, brow furrowed, even as they all keep running. “We can’t kill it, though! We’d kill Gloria,” she exclaims. “My attack kills demons, evaporates them into nothing.”

“Your old attack, at any rate,” Edwin says. “This time, shout Scintillating Reverse Metamorphosis.”

“A bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Peggy quips, just as she ducks out of the reach of one of Semka’s weaponized handbags.

“Just do it!” Edwin shouts.

The monster roars and dives for them, handbags swinging, and Ana runs up to instruct, “Sailor Azurite, repel it with an attack!”

“Love to, but I barely understand what’s going on right now,” Maria retorts cheerfully, jumping onto a bench to avoid a low swing.

“Just point and shout Bullet Invocation,” Ana says. “Your body will do the rest.”

So Maria points at the demon and shouts “Bullet Invocation!” and sure enough, a blue light shoots from her fingers just like a bullet would and blasts Semka back. “Sailor Moonstone, now!” she calls.

“Scintillating Reverse Metamorphosis!” Peggy shouts, aiming a new attack sequence at the creature. Sure enough, the monster freezes, goes staticky, shouts “Fortify,” turns back into Gloria, and collapses.

“One more time for the people in the back, I’m just gonna say _what the fuck_?” Maria exclaims.


	27. Increasing Complications: The Sailor Guardians Adjust to New Developmens In Their Fight Against Evil (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians learn about the rainbow moonstone; Maria and Natasha get to know each other.

Considering this is the fourth/fifth time that Edwin and Ana have given the “so you just found out you’re a Sailor Guardian” speech, it goes pretty smoothly. Maria has questions, but just the usual ones (at least to ask the cats), and she takes everything pretty well in stride. That’s good, because it means there’s plenty of time for the others to get some new information.

Namely: “How did Zhenya pull a demon out of a person?”

Edwin and Ana sigh despairingly (Maria is impressed, she didn’t know cats _could_ despair). “Long ago, even before Queen Margaret ruled the Iridescent Sovereignty, there were seven great monsters known to the universe,” Edwin begins calmly. “They were born of the Winter Kingdom, in all likelihood, but the monarchs, Peggy’s ancestors, had long ago imprisoned them in the palace dungeons. Binding them to this space and preventing their escape were crystal shards, fragments of rainbow moonstone. This explains the crystal that Zhenya found in Gloria’s chest.”

“But rainbow moonstone reflects every color at once,” Peggy says. She’s become something of an expert given that moonstone is rather her thing now. “It wouldn’t manifest in fragments of each separate color.”

Edwin shrugs. “Once the fragments were created, that’s just what happened,” he says. “Perhaps it was your mother’s way of creating distinctions between the prisoners.”

“I guess if I can accept that my alternate-past-dimension mother, queen of a space colony, was imprisoning monsters with binding stones, I can accept that the stones behaved strangely,” Peggy says.

“This just gets weirder every day, doesn’t it?” Maria asks, to which Natasha just shrugs admission.

“So why weren’t the monsters destroyed with the rest of the Iridescent Sovereignty?” Sharon asks, frowning (Maria is impressed again, she didn’t know anyone could ask a question like that without laughing). “When the Winter Kingdom wreaked havoc and all.”

“As far as we can gather,” Ana says, “at some point in their destructive attempts to reign over the realm, they must have decided they needed contingency plans. One such plan seems to have been setting their imprisoned subjects free, which they apparently accomplished with the same sort of magic Queen Margaret used to arrange for your reincarnation.”

“In doing this,” Edwin explains, “the monsters would be reincarnated to align with the time in which you were reincarnated, therefore the Auxiliary Monarchs would be able to find them, summon them, and wield their power against you after removing their crystal fragments.”

Now it’s Wanda’s turn to make a face. “And the crystal fragments don’t bind them to anything anymore because the prison was destroyed?” she asks. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to bind them to something that couldn’t be wrecked so easily?”

“Perhaps, but we have no way of knowing the intentions or plans of long-ago rulers,” Edwin says. “All we know for certain is that the Winter Kingdom has figured out how to find their hidden monsters and activate them, and if they can collect each crystal fragment they can reassemble a powerful rainbow moonstone and nullify our ability to stop them.”

They all blink. “You could have led with the scariest part,” Sharon remarks. “Fighting monsters is easy. Having a scavenger hunt that could end the world, less so.”

“That’s a fun way of putting it!” Ana says. “You’re all smart. You can win a scavenger hunt.”

(Once again, Maria is impressed, both at the fact that the cat is playing cheerleader and that it sort of works.)

 

* * *

 

Eventually they all head off back home, Wanda hopping one train with a wryly cheerful wave (she’s the only one of them that lives even farther north than Peggy and Steve) and Sharon’s father’s car coming to pick her up (she offers a ride to the other two, but they demur once they hear she’s supposed to be on her way to one of said father’s business dinners to play the good daughter) and Natasha and Maria making their way toward _their_ train in no particular hurry.

They have a lot to talk about, after all.

“So,” Natasha says, clearly in preamble. “Did you really come from D.C.? Or was that another part of the carefully constructed fake backstory?” She doesn’t sound accusatory; rather almost understanding. But she is curious.

Maria sighs. “I should have figured Sharon would manage to squeeze all the information I gave her into one text to you,” she says.

“Why would you figure that?” Natasha asks. “You barely know her, or us.”

“Well, you’re girlfriends,” Maria shrugs, “and she seems like the type.”

“Fair,” Natasha concedes. “But the question still stands.”

“Yeah, I’m from D.C.,” Maria replies. “More or less. That’s where I wound up in the system, anyway.”

Natasha nods. “Me too, actually, or at least it’s where the system snagged me,” she says. “Though I haven’t been there since I was a kid. Where’d you start out?”

“Chicago,” Maria says. “Are you looking for the whole gory story?”

“I figure we share with each other, then keep the secrets from everyone else in conjunction,” Natasha replies casually. “I’m probably going to figure it out anyway. I’m good at getting information.”

That actually makes Maria laugh, just a little. “Sneaking around in Fury’s files?” she asks.

“Or dredging things up online,” Natasha shrugs. “I feel better when I know who’s around me. Call me paranoid.”

“You’re paranoid,” Maria replies without missing a beat, “but I get the feeling you have an excuse.”

“Probably,” Natasha says. “So. Chicago.”

“Chicago,” Maria repeats. “My mother died in the hospital after giving birth to me, and predictably, my father resented that. He was a dick, and as I got older he was a dick with fists. So, also predictably, I ran away. I found myself in D.C. It’s pretty obvious from there.”

“Sorry,” Natasha says, sounding (somehow shockingly) sincere. “That’s shitty. I didn’t know my parents, either of them. Don’t even really know who they were.”

“Yeah?” Maria prompts, frowning sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Natasha echoes. “I was born in Russia. Got brought over to D.C. as a kid, I guess because someone thought they were going to adopt me out for good. It didn’t happen. I bounced around there, then Atlantic City, before Fury got a hold of me.” She smiles, though it’s clearly fake. “He was supposed to be good with problem kids, and I was supposed to be one of those.”

Maria laughs again, more sarcastically. “The interesting people often are,” she says. “So does he know about this whole cosmic warrior gig?”

This means it’s Natasha’s turn to laugh. “As far as we know, the only person who’s figured it out besides the four, now five, of us and Steve and the cats is Peggy’s girlfriend,” she says. “And that pretty much only happened because our last bad guy decided it would be fun to kidnap her.”

“Ah-huh,” Maria says, taking the revelation that _everyone_ in this little bunch is polyamorous very well. “But it’s not like we’re all that disguised when we, y’know, transform? We’re not wearing masks or anything. Our hair stays more or less the same.”

“We’re pretty sure there’s something magic about it,” Natasha declares. “Like the monster of the week nabbed Wanda’s brother one time and he didn’t pick up on who we really were. She says there’s probably some charm or something built into the transformations, like something that keeps people from recognizing us or remembering.”

“But Peggy’s girlfriend…?”

“No idea,” Natasha says. “She was figuring things out but she probably wouldn’t have put it all together if Peggy hadn’t just flat-out said something.”

“Well, then,” Maria says. Apparently at a loss for what else to say about _that_ , she smirks and asks, “So were the three of you Sailor Guardians first and then girlfriends, or girlfriends and then Sailor Guardians?”

“The first one,” Natasha says. “Sharon and Wanda met first, like they said, then the cats summoned them. They met me later.” She chuckles, though without much mirth. “They thought I might be a bad guy at first.”

“So how do they tell?” Maria asks. “That we’re whatever we are.”

“They just do,” Natasha says. “That’s how a lot of this works, I think. It just happens.”

“And you just go with it?”

“When they gave me my transformation pen, there was already a battle going on, Peg and Sharon and Wanda versus some demons,” Natasha says. “It was ridiculous, but it was clearly happening. I guess whatever part of me used to exist in the Iridescent Sovereignty that lasted through the reincarnation told me I could trust it. As ridiculous as that sounds.”

“I mean, I can’t talk, I clearly did the same thing,” Maria says. They’re in the subway station by now, meandering toward their train, and for a minute that brings the conversation to a halt, but once they’re waiting and can use soft voices and be heard again, Maria adds, “Don’t suppose the cats have any explanation for why some of us so-called space royalty reincarnated into having shittier lives than others?”

Natasha makes a face. “I didn’t even bother to ask, honestly,” she says. “There’s no point trying to find excuses for why bad things happen, even cosmically.”


	28. Increasing Complications: The Sailor Guardians Adjust to New Developmens In Their Fight Against Evil (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria gets closer to the other Guardians as their fight continues.

Saturday should mean that the Sailor Guardians should technically have one less thing to worry about (school). _Should_ being the operative word: Jasper from Maria’s economics class calls her to reschedule their group project meeting from Monday after school to that very afternoon, because apparently Jack Rollins’ sportball practice absolutely _had_ to happen on Monday after all.

(His idea of helping is going to be cutting things out for the poster while everyone else does the research and Maria, as the only girl in the group, is also tasked with all of the hand-lettering that their teacher apparently vastly prefers. She’s used enough to this bullshit that she doesn’t bother to point out that Jasper’s handwriting is about twenty times nicer than hers.)

But it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, Jasper insists, so Maria goes to knock on Natasha’s door, smirking. “I could really use an escape route,” she says by way of a greeting.

“Don’t you know how to flatter a girl,” drawls Natasha, who’s just lounging around in (appealingly close-fitting, Maria’s not ignorant to that) yoga clothes.

“Ha-ha,” Maria deadpans. “I’m supposed to meet up with my group for econ class but I don’t want to get stuck hanging out for a single minute longer than I have to.”

“Fair,” Natasha says. “So I should hang around and swoop in when necessary?”

“Something like that,” Maria agrees. “You can call the others if you want, so at least one of us doesn’t have to be bored the whole time.” She shrugs and tries to sound disaffected, because she doesn’t want to presume that they could all _four_ be an item just because they’re all queer and an intergalactic crime-fighting team and the other three are already an item. It definitely hasn’t been on her mind at all. “We could even catch a movie after?”

“Not a bad idea,” Natasha remarks. “I’ll talk to the girls, see what works.”

“Cool,” Maria agrees. “Leave in twenty?”

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, Sharon and Wanda are both amenable to the idea of a movie-or-something, and they all agree to meet at a coffee place in Hamilton Heights (Jasper, it seems, lives in the same neighborhood as Peggy and Steve - “how convenient,” Maria remarks, “the whole gang can be on call”) where Maria and Jasper and their group are supposed to be meeting.

“Because every coffee shop loves teenagers spreading out over three tables with their school projects,” Natasha snarks.

“Better than humanizing boys by going to their houses,” Maria points out.

Jasper is already there when Natasha and Maria arrive, and so are Sharon and Wanda, so they nod at each other and split up, Natasha going to the counter and Maria dropping her bag at the table Jasper’s claimed. “Hey,” she says, and she makes sure to sound disinterested when she adds, “How’re you?”

“I’m doing well,” Jasper says, adjusting his glasses. “The weather is pleasant, which made my walk here pleasant. And luckily, the cafe isn’t too busy today.”

“Goody,” Maria says, glancing around. From their table on the other side of the room, Natasha gives Maria a sarcastic smile and a thumbs-up. “Where’s everyone else? Running late?”

“That would be my guess,” Jasper says, a little too quickly. “They aren’t exactly conscientious about their studies or the interests of other people.” He fusses with a stack of paper for a moment before he asks, “Would you like a drink?”

“Caramel frap, if you’re going up there,” Maria says, rooting around for her wallet.

“It’s on me,” Jasper promises. “Be right back. What size?”

“The middle one,” Maria shrugs, “whatever they call it here.”

Jasper nods and heads up toward the counter, grinning, and not a second later, Maria’s phone buzzes.

_> >Buying your drink, Hill? What a considerate gentleman._

_> >Stuff it, Romanoff. If he’s going to insist, I’m not going to complain about free shit._

But by the time Jasper’s back at the table, two identical drinks in hand (which surprises her, even though maybe that’s sexist; she hadn’t had him figured for a caramel - or any kind of - frap guy) and an even bigger smile on his face, the rest of the group is nowhere to be seen. Still.

“Have you gotten any messages from anyone?” Maria asks. “Like, ‘sorry, I’m on my way, traffic is a bitch’ or something?” If she has to be here, so do they. That’s her thought on the matter.

“Not yet,” Jasper says evasively. “Let’s get started, alright? They’ll be here when they’re here.”

 

* * *

 

Even after another half hour passes, the other members of their group are MIA, and it’s starting to look suspicious.

“Give me their numbers,” Maria says, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna kick their asses through text.”

“Don’t do that,” Jasper squeaks. “It’s not their fault!”

“What the hell do you mean?” Maria snaps. “They’re the ones skipping meeting time and leaving it all to the geek and the girl. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jasper says shyly, and he flushes deeply before adding in a whisper, “I, I didn’t tell them we were rescheduling.”

“I thought we rescheduled for Rollins’ sportball,” Maria says blankly.

“I may have made that up,” he says, glancing sideways.

“Say what?”

“I wanted to get to hang out with you by ourselves,” he admits. “I didn’t know if you’d come if I asked you for a date the normal way, so I. Uh.”

“You lied and tricked me,” she finishes. “Because that’s an _awesome_ way to get girls to date you.”

“Are you mad?” Jasper asks softly.

“Considering you wasted my Saturday, acted like a deceiving ass, and didn’t bother to realize that, to paraphrase a genius, dude, stop it, I’m gay... yeah, I’m pretty mad,” Maria scoffs, shaking her head.

“I didn’t know you were, uh,” he mumbles.

“Gay,” she supplies. “You’re allowed to say the word ‘gay’ to describe me, especially since I just did. I’m gay. I’m a big ol’ lesbian. I like the girls.”

He’s blushing very decidedly by now. “Do you want to, um.”

“Leave? Finish my part of the project at home?” Maria shakes her head. “Yeah, I really do.” Natasha, Sharon, and Wanda are already gathering their stuff, having obviously overheard this encounter (it hasn’t exactly been quiet) and Maria starts to do the same. “I’ll see you in class for the required minimum amount of time.”

“Aw, geez,” Jasper mutters. All four girls start to walk out of the cafe, and in an impulsive rush he follows, clearly trying to work up the nerve to say something. Unfortunately for him, he in turn is followed out by a patron who’d been sitting in the corner, wearing a distracting hat, and just as Jasper is shouting, “Maria, wait!” the person starts to laugh maniacally.

“Oh, shit,” Natasha mutters.

Sure enough, the laughing stranger throws off her hat and reveals herself to in fact be Zhenya, their newest Winter Kingdom baddie, and she advances on Jasper to begin to withdraw, yes, his fragment of rainbow moonstone, which is orange.

“I’ll text Peggy,” Sharon declares as they all dash into a convenient nearby alley.

“We can’t let her keep him,” Wanda says.

“Are you sure?” Maria asks dryly.

“If she keeps him, she will keep him as a monster in the service of the Winter Kingdom and she will also have his rainbow moonstone,” Wanda points out. “Unfortunately, that is more important than punishing him for being a creep to you.”

“I guess,” Maria sighs. “Is this the part where we transform?”

“Mm-hmm,” the other three girls say.

“Morganite Power!”

“Almandine Power!”

“Carnelian Power!”

“Azurite Power!”

After thirty seconds devoted to their own internal dance routines, each girl snaps back to reality fully suited-up and resolved. “Let’s do this,” Sharon says.

They run back out to see that Jasper, crystal withdrawn, has transformed into a large humanoid weasel wearing comically oversized glasses and a necktie. “The Sailor Guardians are here,” Zhenya informs not-Jasper. “It is your job to attack them, Ochki! Do that!”

The monster, Ochki apparently, growls in a very un-weasellike way and lunges toward the girls, unsheathing un-weasellike claws and starting to swat at them, his arms windmilling. Before any of them can react, he slices Natasha’s arm and she cries out.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” shouts Maria, distancing herself from the other Sailor Guardians and getting into attack stance before taking a breath (sort of looking like she still can’t believe this is going on) and shouting, “Bullet Invocation!” Just like last time, a bullet made of blue light shoots from Maria’s fingertip and hits Ochki square in the chest. It doesn’t do anything more than stun and repel him (in that way it’s more like a taser than a bullet) but that’s enough to give the girls a chance to regroup.

“I guess we just keep engaging them until Peggy shows up to heal him, or whatever,” Sharon says, though she sounds doubtful. “Someone should try attacking Zhenya herself, maybe.”

“I’ll do it,” Natasha hisses, going en pointe and blasting the Auxiliary Monarch with her electric bracelets as she shouts, “Eloquent Illusion Zap!”

Zhenya rises into the air and manages to miss most of said zap, laughing the whole while, but it does light up the toes of her army boots for a brief moment before the rubber soles counteract the electricity. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Sailor Guardians!” she shouts, smirking cruelly.

“Oh, is that so?” Peggy calls, appearing fully costumed behind Zhenya (Steve and the cats on either side of her, also decked out for the magical fight). “You can’t dodge everything. Translucent Meditation!”

As she shouts this and begins her attack, Steve turns on his heel and draws his cane to go after Zhenya in that way. As the Auxiliary Monarch shifts to avoid Peggy’s blast of an attack, she makes contact with Steve’s cane and groans in annoyance. Steve, for his part, just smirks and says, “Sometimes you have to go old-school.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Zhenya cries.

Steve baps her arm with the cane, causing her to drop the orange moonstone fragment, and then looks her dead in the eye with his cheekiest grin and says, “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

Meanwhile, Edwin has darted forward to catch the moonstone fragment; conveniently, he exhibits characteristically catlike quickness and manages to get in and out of the battle with ease. “I suppose we’ll hold onto this,” he remarks, dropping it into a pouch around Ana’s waist.

“Excellent timing, Sailor Moonstone,” Sharon remarks, grinning.

“That’s sort of our thing,” Peggy replies. “Or one of them.”

“Tangible Truth Evocation!” Wanda is shouting behind them, firing light at Ochki to push him back. He’s continuing to advance despite the scuffle involving Zhenya and the other Guardians, but it seems like that might not keep up for long because without direction, he’s mostly just flailing around with his claws out.

“That’s a very inaccurate weasel,” Steve declares cheerfully.

“Yes, I think I can do something about that,” Peggy murmurs, rearing back and shouting, “Scintillating Reverse Metamorphosis!”

Ochki howls and writhes, soon turning back into Jasper, and Jasper falls panting to the ground.

“Looks like you’re out of luck this time,” Peggy calls, smirking at Zhenya.

“Curses on all of you,” Zhenya hisses, disappearing in a cloud of rose petals.

“What the heck is going on?” Jasper asks, wide-eyed.

“You wanna take this one, Sailor Azurite?” Natasha asks wryly.

“Not really,” Maria says quietly, but she moves toward Jasper and helps him up. He doesn’t seem to recognize her as the same girl he awkwardly hit on not fifteen minutes before, thanks to that vague and convenient magic that comes with their transformations, but he does seem awed by her, so she takes this opportunity to say, “Be careful around strange women, okay? And be careful around women you know as well. Careful of their feelings and their autonomy.”

Jasper blinks. “Uh, okay,” he says.

“You’re safe,” Maria assures him. “Just go forth and be… not a dick, okay?”

“Okay,” Jasper repeats, clearly baffled but also in no place to argue this.


	29. Girls and Monsters: New Friends Prompt New Revelations (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda makes friends with Kitty, one of her classmates.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Wanda looks up from her phone, confused. It’s not her brother asking, and no one else at school really does; besides, why wouldn’t she be okay? She’s just sitting here, minding her own business.

But it only takes a moment for her to realize that technically, she’s _not_ , she’s deep in a texted conversation with Steve about his own business (his increasingly frequent, frustratingly serious silver-armed man dreams) and her naturally empathic face must be reflecting the agony he’s explaining that he’s in.

The person asking this question is Katherine Pryde, who prefers to be called Kitty but hasn’t yet convinced most of the teachers to do this. She’s Wanda’s age, about, and flawlessly popular in a way that Wanda could never imagine being. She’s kind in a way that most popular girls aren’t, though, like she’s popular because she’s truly well-liked and not because she’s just beautiful and intimidating. It’s likely she’s asking out of real concern.

“I’m fine,” Wanda says, trying for a smile. It may or may not be convincing, but she’s a strange girl anyway, it won’t register to anyone as out of the ordinary. “I was just talking to a friend. He’s been having troubles.”

Kitty giggles and raises an eyebrow. “A friend or a _boyfriend_?”

“More like an older brother,” Wanda corrects quickly. “He’s too old for me, and he’s dating my girlfriend’s cousin besides.”

“Oh!” Kitty exclaims, blushing. “I didn’t know you were…”

“I don’t even really know what I am, it’s alright,” Wanda shrugs, surprisingly at ease discussing this. After all, she is a strange girl, it won’t shock anyone. “Bisexual, probably. I’ve liked men before, boys really, but right now I’ve my girls.”

“No, no, that’s cool!” Kitty rushes to say. “I, um, I have a girlfriend too. Not that a lot of people know that, but, y’know, I’m mostly just surprised we didn’t already sniff out each other’s queer.”

“That does have a way of happening, doesn’t it?” Wanda asks, laughing. She swallows her nerves before adding shyly, “Would you like to sit?”

Kitty nods, grinning as she does. “So your girlfriend, is she anyone I know?”

“Girlfriends, plural,” Wanda corrects, smirking. “But no, they’re both at International. Sharon’s not Jewish and Natasha might be but doesn’t practice.” She shrugs.

“Might be?” Kitty asks, head tilting.

“She’s been in foster care her whole life,” Wanda says. “Never knew her biological family. But she was born in Russia, and people have suggested that some of her ancestors might have been Jewish, perhaps.”

“I hope the suggestions weren’t from obnoxious Christian foster parents looking to save her,” Kitty cracks, and it’s easy to imagine that she’s got experience with - if not foster parents, then at least overzealous people trying to do just that to her.

“Not to my knowledge,” Wanda says. “It wouldn’t stick, anyway, I don’t think. She’s not particularly spiritual, which isn’t bad, just true.”

“Gotcha,” Kitty nods.

“What about your girlfriend?” Wanda asks, delighted that she’s able to do so.

“Oh, Illyana’s homeschooled,” Kitty says. “Also Russian, actually. Um, are you, too? I don’t mean to be offensive, but…”

Wanda shakes her head. “It’s not offensive,” she promises. “I’m from one of those tiny places in Eastern Europe that nobody has heard of. My father was German-Jewish, though, and my mother Romani.” She chuckles, though it’s not really funny. “I’m a Nazi’s worst nightmare, and not just because I’d as soon kick kick their ass as look at them.”

“Oh, have you really?” Kitty asks eagerly.

Wanda pauses, guessing that kicking the asses of racist space Communists probably doesn’t count.

Instead she says, “No, but only because my brother has held me back. Pietro, my real brother, my twin? He _does_ go here.”

“He’s the one with the bleached hair, right?” Kitty asks, nodding. “He runs fast?”

“That’s him.”

“Yeah, he’s in my art class.” Kitty chuckles. “He’s not very good at it.”

“He’s not good at anything that requires him to sit still,” Wanda explains. “His brain is like that.” Although it’s another reason she’s the just-suggested worst nightmare, she doesn’t get into her own neurological differences. She’s enjoying this talk and doesn’t feel like risking its abrupt end.

“Hey, it happens,” Kitty shrugs. “Anyway. I bet you’re wondering why I came over to bother you, huh?”

Wanda shrugs. The answer is yes, but it wouldn’t be polite to admit that and she knows it. “I won’t mind if you tell me,” she says instead of getting into that.

“Okay,” Kitty says. “Well, okay, so Mr. Grimm was telling us about that new project in class yesterday, right? And I saw some of the guys kind of eyeing you for a partner, like, maybe because they figured you’re smart and would do the work or maybe whatever but they don’t seem like the kind of guys you like to be around. Especially now that I know you’re a taken queer woman.”

Wanda mentally sorts through the boys in their science class and nods, grimacing. Between the popular boys (who’d probably be aiming to _Carrie_ her or something) and the edgelord boys (who’d probably be trying to get up her skirt) and the slacker boys (who’d definitely want her to do the work) she can safely say, “No, I wouldn’t like that.”

“So,” Kitty continues, “want a get-out-of-harassment-free card?”

Wanda blinks. “But you have friends in that class,” she says, sounding more shocked than she’d like.

“But you don’t, not really,” Kitty counters. “And I wanna help. Besides, hanging around the same people all the time gets boring.” She rolls her eyes. “They’re not very open-minded, either.”

This is probably code, Wanda thinks, for “they don’t know I’m dating a girl and wouldn’t like it if they did.” Wanda understands that, and largely because, well. “I’ve been the brunt of that before, I know.” She says it wryly, so Kitty knows there are no hard feelings.

“Geez, I’m sorry,” Kitty sighs anyway. “They can be jerks.” She pauses, horrified. “I haven’t been a jerk, have I?”

“Not that I remember,” Wanda says, “and even if you had, you’re more than making up for it now.”

“Okay,” Kitty says. “Well, I still wish I’d been able to stop the others before. And I’ll do it in the future. Um, do you have plans after school tomorrow?”

Wanda thinks about this. If she doesn’t have a set appointment, or specific plans with her brother, she usually ends up drifting toward Peggy’s for a while, and the others do the same. There’s no schedule for that, though, and no obligation.

So she shakes her head.

“Want to get together to go over things?” Kitty asks. “We should have the assignment by then, officially, and we could meet up after last period and walk down to the library to get stuff started.” Their school has a library, of course, but since it’s a relatively small school, the library is a comparable size. The public library, even just the local branch a block over, has a better selection of material for research projects, especially ones covering advanced subjects.

“That would be nice,” Wanda agrees. “Thank you for offering.” And taking a chance on the weird Gothic girl. “Is that odd of me to say?”

“Not at all,” Kitty says. “And thank you for agreeing. I don’t really wanna be stuck with any of those guys, either.” She grins, because she obviously knows what Wanda’s getting at, but she wants to provide a graceful out.

“It’s a win-win, then.”

 

* * *

 

_> >I’ll be late to Peggy’s tomorrow. Meeting up with Kitty._

_> >Who’s that? I don’t think you’d be quite so cavalier about stepping out on us. ;)_

_> >Ha-ha, Tasha. She’s doing a project with me for science class. I guess we’re sort of friends?_

_> >Aw, I’m proud of you._


	30. Girls and Monsters: New Friends Prompt New Revelations (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda meets Kitty's girlfriend and learns some things along the way.

“So,” Kitty says over the low roar of the library photocopier, “what do you do for fun?”

It’s not an odd question, but Wanda still (briefly) entertains the thought of giving an odd answer. It’s not even true, strictly speaking; her Sailor Guardian-related extracurriculars aren’t for fun but for justice.

But it might be funny.

But it shouldn’t be done.

Instead, Wanda says, “I learn lots of things about lots of things. I’m interested in psychology and neuroscience, but I also study Kabbalah, Roma mysticism, and some Wicca.”

Kitty grins, which is unexpected. “So you’re a witch.”

“Sort of,” Wanda says, her own smile more self-effacing. “I have certain interests and certain gifts, particularly from my mother, and I’m rarely afraid of using them.” And, of course, she’s also a reincarnated magical space princess. That’s its own sort of witchery.

“That’s really cool,” Kitty says enthusiastically. “Illyana, my girlfriend, she’s kind of a witch too. I’ve always wished I was something special like that, y’know?” She laughs. “I mean, you are, you don’t have to wish.”

“You don’t need proper magic to be special,” Wanda says earnestly, and she means it. “You, you draw people to you, that’s very special.”

“Aw,” Kitty giggles. “I see why you have two girlfriends already. You’re charming.”

Wanda blushes a little, though it’s perfectly innocent. “As are you,” she says. “That’s my point.”

They work a while longer before Kitty’s phone buzzes. “Aw, crud,” she says softly as she looks at it. “Illya had to get a ride over from her brother and he could only bring her this early. You okay if I take off?”

“Of course,” Wanda says. “I think we made great progress today.”

“Totally,” Kitty agrees. “Hey, you wanna come downstairs and meet her?”

Wanda nods, but before she can speak she’s struck with a vision: a monster with a glowing sword. She’s sure it’ll pose danger, but she’s also sure she can take it on and for Kitty and Illyana’s sake especially she _should_.

“I’m right behind you,” she promises, smiling in a way that’s nervous but that nobody else would know.

When they get outside, there’s a slim blonde waiting, leaning against the wall. “Hello,” she says, waving.

“Illya, this is Wanda,” Kitty introduces. “Wanda, Illyana. You guys are both witches! I was telling Wanda how cool that is.”

Illyana’s eyebrows raise. “Where did you find her?” she asks.

“School, weirdo,” Kitty giggles. “And she’s taken.”

“So you’re also Jewish?” Illyana asks.

Wanda nods. “Through my father, but I’ve always been part of the faith,” she says. “And my mother -”

“Roma?” Illyana interrupts.

“Yes,” Wanda agrees, surprised. It’s not something most people can identify or put a name to.

“I expect that affects your practice?” Illyana continues, but just as Wanda is about to reply, Zhenya appears behind them, looming menacingly.

“How _cute_ ,” she murmurs. “Little witches with secrets that are oh-so-big.”

“Leave us,” Illyana says darkly.

“Who is this?” Kitty asks warily. “Ex? _Evil_ ex?”

“Ghost from the past,” Illyana mutters.

“What a coy little euphemism,” Zhenya says, withdrawing her divining crystal.

“Run!” Wanda shouts immediately, at the exact same time that Illyana does.

“This is mine alone,” Illyana adds. “She wants the monster inside me.”

“ _What_?” Kitty shouts.

“Take her,” Illyana says solemnly to Wanda. “Get her out of here. Don’t return until you know it’s safe.”

Wanda nods, though she only halfway plans to obey. She grabs Kitty’s wrist and tugs her away, around the block to a side entrance of the library. “Get inside,” she says. “We’ll both be back soon.”

Kitty’s eyes widen. “What’s going on? Is this because of magic? Is it a magic thing?”

“Sort of,” Wanda says. “Hide, be safe.”

Once she’s satisfied that Kitty will oblige, Wanda leaves her things behind, texts Peggy hurriedly, and dashes into a nearby dark corner to shout, “Almandine Power!”

Zhenya has already extracted the moonstone fragment – yellow, it seems – from Illyana’s chest and caused her to transform into an anthropomorphic pipistrelle bat with, yes, a glowing sword. Wanda isn’t surprised, although the vision she had didn’t specify that the monster would _be_ her new friend’s girlfriend.

It makes a strange sort of sense, though, just cosmically. Things lining up just so.

She strikes a pose and stares Zhenya down, hopefully intimidating. “No good will come of tampering with the hearts of innocent girls!” she shouts. “Soldier of Passion and Perception, I am Sailor Almandine!”

“Innocent,” Zhenya laughs. “Mechi is even less that than you, Sailor Almandine. She’s been places and done things that even your greedy warrior’s heart would break to hear.”

Wanda flinches, though she tries not to. “That was the monster,” she says. “Not the girl that the monster was reborn into.”

“How do you know that?” Zhenya retorts. “This girl was a stranger to you.”

Wanda almost argues this, but it’s not really untrue. She’s just met Illyana, and besides that she doesn’t want to blow her cover even more than she already has.

Instead she says, “I know that she’s good just as I know that I am good.”

“Pah,” Zhenya scoffs. “All those of the Iridescent Sovereignty are the same. Foolish believers in their own narrow justice and slaves to their own vanity, emotion, and desire.”

“Perhaps the kingdom of old was more like you say,” Wanda begins, “but in this life I have only the drive to do what’s right and the feelings I feel. There is nothing evil in any of that.”

“You would think so,” Zhenya sighs. “I grow bored. Mechi, attack!”

The demon lunges forward, brandishing her sword and roaring, and because (especially because) Wanda knows that it’s dainty Illyana in there, she begins to counter not by attacking but by flinging a paper charm and shouting, “Talismanul Purificator!”

This makes Zhenya laugh maliciously, twice as loud when the bat swats the charm away with her sword. “Foolish,” she says again.

“Believing that enslaving creatures, be they young girls or animal warriors, will end well is foolish,” Wanda hisses, moving back far enough to launch another attack, this time right at the Auxiliary Monarch. “Tangible Truth Evocation!”

Zhenya gasps, but she manages to miss most of the blow from the attack. “Does everyone not long for a place to belong?” she then asks, her voice lilting. “For a cause to be sworn to, for comrades-in-arms to fight alongside?”

The question catches Wanda off-guard. It’s true that prior to her awakening as a Sailor Guardian, Wanda had often felt adrift, purposeless, wanting. She had her brother, she had the few friends of her parents who made it their business to check in on the children periodically (those who lease them the apartment, who always save them seats at synagogue), she had the few people she wishes not to think of, but it had been a small life. She’d had vast reserves of power and nowhere to direct that, and she’d had vast reserves of love as well.

But she is not a Sailor Guardian because there is a space racist pulling her strings. She is not one simply because of a need to belong. She could walk away from it if she chose, but she doesn’t, and she chooses every day to stay with her girls as well, because it’s what she and all of them want.

No, their lives are nothing like those of the Winter Kingdom.

“You must take joy in false equivalencies, you use them often enough,” Wanda says.

Zhenya growls. “Mechi, get her,” she shouts, but the demon hesitates for just long enough to give Peggy, transformed before her arrival, a chance to sneak up on the villains of the day and give Zhenya’s ass a very literal kick.

“Sorry I’m late, Sailor Almandine,” Peggy calls, grinning smugly.

“Better late than never,” Wanda replies. “Sailor Moonstone, would you take care of this, please?”

Zhenya rolls her eyes. “Mechi, attack,” she exclaims, and the monster does, lunging at Peggy with her sword held aloft. She’s clearly not invested in the outcome of this, though, because she doesn’t even struggle when Wanda stuns her with another charm to hold her still.

“This monster is weak,” Zhenya declares. “Do what you will, at least the moonstone shard is mine.” She holds the yellow stone up and disappears in a cloud of smoke and rose petals before the girls can react.

“Damn it,” Wanda hisses.

“We’ll get it back eventually,” Peggy says. “For now, let’s focus on our bat, shall we?”

Wanda nods. “Do it, Sailor Moonstone!”

So Peggy moves back and begins her attack, shouting “Scintillating Reverse Metamorphosis!” And in no time the pipistrelle-girl-monster turns back into Illyana and she collapses to her knees.

Frowning, Wanda approaches and puts a soothing hand on Illyana’s back. “It’s alright,” she says. “You’re alright. It’s done.”

“You’re more than just a witch,” Illyana remarks, apparently having seen through Wanda’s disguise. That’s not at all a shock.

“So are you, but I’ll keep the secret,” Wanda says. “Besides, you only truly are what you choose to be.”

 

* * *

 

Untransformed, Wanda guides Illyana back to where Kitty is waiting in the library, and all three girls hug before parting ways. Peggy respectfully keeps her distance until Wanda is alone again, but then she falls in step with the younger girl.

“That seemed more personal than usual,” she muses.

“The girl, Illyana, is dating my friend Kitty,” Wanda says, even though it’s evasive and even though Peggy could have already figured that out.

“Even without that,” Peggy clarifies gently. “Zhenya was unusually malicious.”

Wanda pulls a face. “It’s silly.”

“Not if it upset you,” Peggy says.

“She accused me of wickedness,” Wanda murmurs. “In part, she meant because of my being a Sailor Guardian of the Iridescent Sovereignty.”

“There’s a ‘but’ to that,” Peggy suggests.

“In part I feared that it was because of who I am,” Wanda explains. “Maybe she meant my heritage, my being Jewish and Roma even if I can ‘pass’ as white. Maybe she meant because I can see the future and do spells. But maybe she meant it just because of _who_ I am.”

“Why on Earth would you think that?” Peggy asks gently.

“I never told any of you about Victor,” Wanda says. “He was my first… paramour, I suppose. He was too old for me, but he was kind. I have a hard time connecting with people, so I was willing to compromise when I did.”

“Did he hurt you, sweetheart?”

“Not in the way you mean,” Wanda says. “He was in college, and his roommate was, well, an enabler. He’d encourage dangerous things like drinking and fighting and, once he realized I could do it, strange magic. Once he suggested I try casting under the influence. This backfired, obviously, and when people were hurt Victor took his friend’s side against me.”

“Well, that’s abhorrent,” Peggy declares. “But it means that they’re the wicked ones, not you. Silly, spoiled boys afraid to take responsibility for themselves.”

“Victor wasn’t spoiled,” Wanda sighs. “His loyalty was just greater to his friends than to me. It was a choice that he made, and I assumed for awhile that it was made because I was unworthy.”

Peggy stops in her tracks, frowning. “May I hug you?” she asks.

“Oh!” Wanda exclaims, startled. “Yes, you may. Thank you.” For offering and for asking both.

So Peggy does, careful but sincere. “I can’t make you feel any particular way,” she begins, “but I hope that I, and all of us together, can convince you that you’re nothing but worthy.”

“You do,” Wanda says. “That’s what I realized. Zhenya suggested that being a Sailor Guardian and fighting for justice was no different than the demons’ ignorant obedience to their Auxiliary Monarchs, that all fighting is done from duty and not care. But I’ve learned that we fight because we love, we belong to each other as well as the cause. I cannot be too wicked if that’s true.”


End file.
